Life Is a Process
by Daelyn Paolini
Summary: When Maka unearths a skeleton from Shinigami's closet, an unspeakable horror is found to be set upon the world- Apathy, something far worse than Insanity. What does any of this have to do with the mysterious books Maka is ordered to burn? Or the wicked man behind the curtain with skeletons of his own? Any -or all- of this could bring the world to its knees. ON HIATUS.
1. Prologue

**A/N: arborealSoothsayer would like to remind her readers that _Life Is a Process_ is based off of the anime. You may find references or actual events from the manga, but she finds it easier to work with the anime since it's already ended. Also, arborealSoothsayer would like to mention that she's heard whispers of a remake that would follow the manga, rather than veer off on its own and turn into something else entirely. Can this be confirmed? Also, for the sake of this story, Crona will be a boy.**

**Thank you, that is all.**

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

The basement was dark. The malicious air permeated Maka's skin, seeming to infect her bloodstream. She shivered at the icy breeze that came from no where. Maybe the countless souls floating around them somehow created a frozen lake of themselves, their eddies the effective coolant. From distant points in the gargantuan basement, drops of water could be heard landing heavily in the puddles, the echo of their pain bouncing off the walls.

The horror Maka felt in the presence of this rotund and grotesque Kishin shocked her to her core. She tightened her grip on the black shaft of Soul's scythe. Gritting her teeth, she locked her gaze with the monster before her. The bottomless pit in his gleaming eyes was enough to scare her out of using Soul Perception, but she knew she must persevere.

"Maka, you're shaking," Soul said as he shifted under her tight and quivering grip. He was worried for his meister, who was so much more vulnerable than he. She was also stupid and reckless as of late, which made him all the more incredulous about entering this fight headlong. He sighed and looked at Maka with tired eyes, then hardened his gaze as he focused on the Kishin Schlem.

"Shitty girl, you gonna' move? I've cleared out the room for ya', huh? Hey! Shitty girl!" Schlem swiped his arm through the air and smirked at Maka. She tore her eyes from his and closed them, focusing on her Soul Perception. It was a daunting process to open them again; she was running on no sleep, hunger, and fear. When she opened her eyes, it was a flashback to her first encounter with Stein. She felt so small and meek, like she could be easily overpowered by this giant of a soul.

"Soul, match wavelengths with me," Maka said with as strong a voice as she could muster.

"Are you thinking Genie Hunter?" Soul asked dubiously. Maka shook her head, the image of a leather-bound book flashing before her eyes.

"Just do it. I need your soul wavelength to amplify mine." She looked down at Soul, impatience tinting her face a light pink. Soul hesitated for a moment before nodding his head and doing as his meister instructed. Their souls connected at once, mind and body being filled with the other. The familiar closeness comforted her, but barely. Maka was aware that Soul knew she was planning something unknown to him and possibly life-threatening. She cornered off that part of her mind, weakening their connection.

Maka knew she wouldn't be able to complete Soul Manipulation on her own, but she figured she could use it through Soul since his body was infected with black blood. She closed her eyes and called Soul's essence into her body. Letting go of Soul with her right hand, she held her arm out and beckoned for Schlem's soul. She felt the power welling in the pit of her frozen stomach; it surged through her veins like a drug, expanding her soul, but not touching her weapon's. When she opened her eyes, she found that nothing had changed. Schlem's soul was still towering over her, and giggling at her.

"So, you tried to use Kuzo-chan's technique, huh? Well, you suck at it, shitty girl!" Schlem slapped his stomach, then laughed and lunged at Maka. She moved with Schlem and pushed his outstretched arm away with the end of her scythe's shaft. Skidding to an abrupt halt, she leapt away from the gigantic Kishin.

"Maka, below-" As Maka looked down she watched Schlem's meaty hand wrap around her leg and sling her to the ground. Her back hit the concrete straight on, laying her flat out and stunning her. "Hey, what's wrong with you, Maka? You're not entirely resonated with me!" Maka coughed and ignored the waves of agitation and worry Soul threw at her.

"This isn't an ordinary mission, Shibusen girl. You won't be able to defeat this Kishin, the only one with Kuzo-chan's blessing!" He licked his lips and grinned broadly; his large, blue eyes were wide and wild. Maka lifted herself from the floor, feet away from Schlem and kneeling. Every inch of her body burned with aches and bruises.

_He keeps mentioning this Kuzo. And what does he mean by "Kuzo's technique?"_ Soul knew this technique had everything to do with the section of Maka's mind completely blocked off from him. He glared at the titanium barrier she put up between them, and at the last few thoughts that would make the meister-weapon pair one entity. He felt Maka's grip on him tighten as she noted him analyzing the obstruction in their mind.

_Do you trust me, Soul?_

_Of course._

_Then leave it alone._

_Maka..._

"Hey, shitty girl! You awake? You know, what Kuzo-chan's doing isn't so bad. Why do you fight it? It's all about _cleansing_. Don't you want to be cleeeeaaaan? EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! HEAVY FREE FALL!" Schlem jumped into the air above Maka, poised to crush her with his body. She dodged his attack and kicked off a nearby wall to swing Soul's sickle back and forth at her opponent; with each movement she felt like her muscles were being torn from the bone. Schlem easily sidestepped the blade and avoided her.

"Soul, let's go! Genie Hunter!" She roared, pulling Soul back, whose blade exploded into a beautiful and blinding attack. Just as she brought the scythe down, Schlem put the heels of his palms together and curved his fingers to imitate crude teeth.

"Gravitational Thrust!" The rush of air cast by Schlem's hands was strong enough to put Maka on her knees and absolutely stop her. Genie Hunter was still held high behind her. She attempted to force herself through the gale with the attack itself, but suddenly felt her body being pulled toward Schlem. It was a tug-of-war between the immense opposing current and the gravitational pull; she felt strands of hair being ripped from their roots, her scalp alive and tingling from the prickling pain.

"Maka, get out of there _now_! He's gonna' rip you in half!" Soul ordered drowning in the panic of both of them. She finally cut through the current and leapt several yards away, out of breath and on fire. _What am I supposed to do?_ She thought to herself, though she knew Soul could hear her. _If I get too close and leave myself open with Genie Hunter he can easily kill me with his own attack. How am I supposed to beat this monster? Genie Hunter isn't enough..._

_Soul! Remember when we fought Asura and we used Kishin Hunter?_ Maka was desperate enough to try anything. Ignoring Soul's doubt, she licked her lips and kept her eyes locked on Schlem.

_Are you serious, Maka? We haven't been able to use that since! Do you really want to rely on an unmastered ability? It could be dangerous._ His worry and skepticism were inches from bleeding into her own emotions, but the line between Maka and Soul was clear and bold in this crude and inhibited resonance. Schlem pulled his fist back and charged for Maka, creating a crater in the wall she had been standing in front of moments before. Maka settled safely behind a pillar.

_What we're doing now isn't any better. I can stand to get hurt by him while using Kishin Hunter; it'll take him out in one strike._ She gripped the shaft of her scythe tighter and heard her gloves faintly protest. She begged Soul to end his silence and accept her proposition. _Soul, hurry up and decide!,_ she growled through gritting teeth. With an exasperated sigh, Soul slung his head around, radiating disapproval and uncertainty.

"No, we- damn it, fine! Do it, but I swear to God, Maka! If you die, I'll-" His words fell on ears deafened by her scream.

"KISHIN HUNTERRRRR!" Soul's sickle grew larger than Genie Hunter, but was still visibly smaller than the first time they used Kishin Hunter. Maka jumped into the air and propelled herself to Schlem, prepared for and unafraid of the pain the Kishin might serve.

"Gravitational Thrust!" Schlem shouted, raising his hands. _Here it comes_, Maka growled. Her grip was now so tight on Soul she became aware of his discomfort.

_Look out, it's different this time!_ Soul bellowed just as Maka was forced onto the ground once more. She landed on her side with a sickening crack. In an instant she was up, and Soul was prepared to change into his human form and sacrifice himself for Maka at any moment. The gravity from Schlem's attack yanked her stumbling forward, but she lost the momentum and was quickly thereafter hit by an air current, stopping her movements again.

"RRRAAAGH!" Maka glared Schlem down, determined to force him to look her in the eyes. But he wasn't looking at her. In her direction, but- "SOUL!" The push of air and pull of gravity hit Soul with terrifying brevity, shattering Kishin Hunter and sending a monstrous rift down his sickle; cracks like spider webs crawled across his blade; chunks of the metal were thrown into the shadows before Maka could yank him out of the current and toss him to safety. He was in his human form before he hit the ground, screaming and writhing in agony. Maka perceived the explosion of pain before their connection was severed simultaneously.

Maka's left arm took the tail end of the attack, her wrist being pulled from its socket and shattered, every bone in her forearm, hand, and fingers either broken or shattered as well. Screaming, she held her arm to her chest as she hit the floor next to Soul. Her cries and whimpers bounced off the walls of the basement. She controlled her breathing by biting the inside of her cheek, despite wanting nothing more than to scream at the top of her lungs. She forced herself to sit up, her stomach churning from the burning pain. Through bleary eyes, she looked over and saw Soul's shimmering form. He was lying helpless on the ground, crushing his right arm beneath himself. The dimness of the room -the only light being that of the bobbing benign souls around them- cast him in a gray-blue light.

She gingerly crawled across the floor to him, the seemingly vast expanse of a single yard leaving her feeling as if she had ventured through hell. She barely registered the maniacal laughter in the background. As soon as Maka pulled Soul onto his back, she shuddered and turned her head away, retching. She did not care about the wetness she soon felt on her legs and feet. Maka shook her head and bit back the rage. _Blood. Blood. Blood… there's **so much blood!, **_she screamed in her head. She fought the sight before her eyes, disbelieving that it could be real.

Soul's right arm was a disgusting mass of red, white, and purple. From the few clear areas of skin on his arm she saw blood pooling beneath the surface. Mangled skin dangled from his red and purple arm. Glaring white bone stood in stark contrast to the blood, seen more often than unblemished skin; bones protruded from numerous points on his arm, which was twisted in a horrible position.

Maka threw her right arm out and tore at Soul's shirt, tugging him into her lap. She pulled off her jacket as quickly as she could, not giving a second thought to her own injuries, sobbing and shaking violently as she wrapped it around his arm. "No, no, please, Soul, no. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She shook her head, knotting the sleeves of her coat and pressing it down as she tried to stop the bleeding.

"Stupid shitty girl! A weapon might not last too long on its own, but it can still fight just fine. But a meister is _nothing_ without a weapon! You should have just left him to die so at least you could _try_ to escape." Schlem put his hands on his round stomach and howled with laughter. "Now, stay still so I can kill you faster. Heavy Free Fall!" He threw himself into the air above Maka, who grabbed Soul's limp body, and rolled just out of the focal point of Schlem's attack. The concrete around the Kishin rose and shattered, lifting Maka and her partner into the air; debris was flung at the two, but Maka guarded Soul's body with her own. They hit the floor side by side, a shower of rubble assailing them.

"Back off, Schlem! You won't get rid of us that easily." Maka looked down at Soul, who laid helpless and unconscious in her arms. His eyelids seemed so tender and unreal when closed entirely. Soul's olive tone was gone, now verging on Maka's pale one. A bead of blood spilled from his parted lips and rolled along his jaw line to his ear. Maka's throat was sore and inflamed from shoving down her anger and sadness.

She leaned back and whimpered from her own pain. This fire was shortly extinguished by her adrenaline when she sensed Soul's wavelength fade away. "No, no," she whispered with tears in her eyes. Their mental connection was now fuzzy; she sensed Soul was loosely aware of his surroundings. He could think of and feel nothing other than the pain. She looked down at herself and saw blood everywhere. She was drenched in his blood.

"Shitty girl! Just give up already! Gravitational Thrust!" Schlem howled, pointing his clawed hands at Maka once more. She barely managed to evade the attack by rolling across the floor. She held Soul with a death grip, unwilling to let anymore harm befall her fallen comrade.

_What am I supposed to do? I can't do anything without Soul! Schlem is right. I can't- I can't... _She looked down at her body once more, eyes wide, tears falling freely. It was Soul's blood, which was tainted with black blood. A second flash of the same leather-bound book gave her an idea. She began to lick her arms clean of Soul's blood, but to no avail. Maka looked at Soul's mouth, seeing more blood.

"It's too bad... our first kiss... has to be like this," she whispered, putting her lips to his and drinking his blood.

Within moments, she felt her heart cease beating. She coughed and gagged on the sick feeling. Soul's head fell to the floor as Maka instinctively reached up to her neck, clawing at her skin for air. She was choking on the motionless state of her body. She looked down at Soul with wet eyes. His wavelength was slipping away from her. Seconds later, she was groping at the void where it had been but was no more. She looked around the room, everything far away and blurry. _How... could this... fail... I... _She fell to the floor beside Soul, heart and lungs still like death.

...

"_Heavy Free Fall__!_"

* * *

**A/N: The name Schlem randomly popped into arborealSoothsayer's head one day. She wishes it was her legal name. *arborealSoothsayer is totally chill about this whole tragedy***


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One:**

**The Pumpkin Panties Are Back! Poor Soul Can't Catch a Break?**

* * *

**An exert from **_**Soul Manipulation.**_

_**Chapter One**_

_Soul Manipulation may be an art long forsaken, but the benefits of the abilities far outweigh the rare malevolent ends it has been used to meet. The preconceived notion that Soul Manipulation is a branch of the Darkest Arts of Witch Magic is a _myth._ The ability is natural to meisters, or anyone with some talent for Soul Perception. It was practiced by Shibusen meisters in the early founding days before a series of circumstantial and most unfortunate events changed the views of this technique._

_Soul Manipulation was used in many different ways on many different levels (all depending upon the meister's Soul Perception ability and natural taking to Soul Manipulation). Soul Manipulation abilities ranged from merely neutralizing their opponent's soul wavelength; to controlling their opponents movements (or even emotions in extreme cases); to controlling their own weapon; to allowing their weapon to control their own bodies, and even, in very rare and very severe cases, ripping their opponent's soul out while they're alive, thus instantly killing them._

* * *

**(Much Time Earlier)**

Maka lifted her feet to rest them on the wooden arm of the couch, crossing her arms over her stomach, and leaning her head on Soul's shoulder, parallel to the red couch. She took a piece of caramel popcorn from Soul's bag and tossed it into her mouth. She smiled and moaned mockingly at Soul's displeasure, flipping open a book and resting it on her raised thighs.

"You always steal my food... For a skinny little shorty, you sure do eat a lot." He laughed when Maka swore at him.

"Maka Chops hurt, Soul! Or are you too retarded to remember that?" She stuck her tongue out at him, motioning for him to face forward. "Now watch your damn movie..." He chuckled once more and leaned back, sinking comfortably into the couch.

"Ah..." He sighed, but laughed out loud a moment later, amused by the movie he was watching.

"Oh- Soul!" He winced at his name, wanting only to watch his hilarious guy movie. "I'm excused from my afternoon classes tomorrow, because Shinigami-sama wants to talk to me and begin my punishment. Can you take notes for me?"

"Yeah, why not," he sighed, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Soul, be serious!" Maka whined, tugging on a strand of his bleach white hair. "You know how I am when it comes to-"

"No, I've lived with you for all this time and still don't know how you are."

"Don't be a smartass," Maka ground her teeth together, pulling harder on his hair, "it's not _cool_. Nyaaa~!" She stuck her tongue out, repeatedly stomping her feet on the arm of the couch. Soul laughed at her, covering her face with his hand and pushed it away. Maka sighed and stood up from the couch, book in hand, and fixed her crooked tank top. "I'm going to bed. Night, Soul."

"Night, Maka." Soul chimed to her prancing figure.

"Don't forget about tomorrow!" Maka called from her bedroom.

"Mh. Punishment..." Soul rewound the movie to where he was before Maka interrupted.

* * *

Walking beneath the guillotines, Maka fidgeted. She squirmed under the passing of each blade, each red leg, and of each anorexic, yet somehow looming shadow. With a little whimper, she slowed down as Lord Death came in to view. She continued to poke her index fingers together, terrified. She knew that her punishment had to come about sooner rather than later. It was only by Shinigami's good graces (and also partially due to the ascension of Kishin Asura, of course) that her punishment came later in the long run.

_They've turned me in to such a rule breaker,_ she squeaked. _Oh!_ Maka looked up, seeing a figure sitting with Shinigami at his coffee table. They were conversing over tea, having quite an animated conversation. Paying more attention to her Soul Perception rather than wallowing in her misery she instantly recognized the wavelength. Maka's arms snapped to her sides as she became livid.

"-pumpkin panties, don't you, Shinigami-sama?" Spirit's laughter carried down to Maka. Assuming that their conversation was about the type of underwear she used to wear when she was younger, Maka blushed, her face red as a tomato.

"Yes, yes! Quite! It was so adorable... oh, Maka-chan! Hi, hi! How are you?"

"Maka~!"

Moaning and groaning and blubbering, Maka wormed her way from her father's wretched grasp. Gasping, she dodged behind the table, evading Spirit. He whimpered and fell to his knees, wallowing in his own misery. Looking with urgency at Shinigami, Maka stuttered for guidance and protection, fixing her messy pigtails.

"You- wanted to speak with me, Shinigami-sama?" Maka finally spit out. Shinigami flinched at her flying spittle.

"Eh... yah, yah! So!" Maka fell to the floor at Shinigami's words, eager to get away from her father via any manner possible. She placed her fists on top of her legs, which were folded beneath her.

"Maka~!" Spirit whimpered, snaking his way around the legs of the table to find Maka. Maka clenched her fists and blushed brighter.

"This is about your punishment, eh?" Shinigami was serious as he looked at the table. Maka swallowed the lump in her throat, his sober attitude scaring her. "You must help your father..."

"**WAH**?" As if this punishment wasn't torture enough, Maka realized that his sentence did not end there.

"...burn books."

"Eep." Maka stared at Shinigami with a blank expression; she couldn't feel her toes. Blood spurted from Maka's nose like a fountain as she keeled over, sobbing.

"I guess she's not as immune to insanity as we thought, eh, Spirit?" Shinigami leaned over, examining Maka. She was curled in the fetal position. Shinigami turned to face Spirit, whose mouth was gaping, face white as a sheet. "Oh, dear..."

"Makaaa! You're bleeding- you're bleeding so bad! Oh, my poor Mahg-kaaaa. We need to get you to the infirmary! Maka? Maka? Oh God, she's dead! MAAA-"

"Double Reaper Chop!" Shinigami howled, hitting father and daughter on the head simultaneously.

"Nnnnnnnh, I'm sorry Shinigami-sama," Maka moaned, sitting up again with tears running down her face.

"-KAAA!"

"Maka Chop!" Maka growled, slamming a book into Spirit's scalp.

"Oh, my... I think the Reaper Chop may be a bad influence..." Shinigami spied Spirit under the blade of a guillotine.

"Shinigami-sama, you can't be serious about that punishment! _Burn_ books- with _papa_?" Maka put her nose to the floor by Shinigami, beating the ground with her little fists. "Pleeeaaase, I'll do anything but that!"

"Maka-chan, I'm sorry, but you should have thought about that before you stole a level-four book." There was an inflexion at the end of his sentence as if he regretted the decision.

"I promise I won't do it again!" She bawled.

"That doesn't change the past." Shinigami spoke softly.

"'Stole' is such a harsh word." Maka's entire body relaxed and sagged with her sadness. Shinigami sighed, patting her on the back.

"Hey, why are supposed to burn books anyway?" Spirit questioned. Spirit and Maka both looked up at Shinigami with curiosity. Shinigami huffed out a puff of air in the shape of his mask.

"Weeell," he drawled. "...sure, why not?"

_Like it's worth hiding,_ Spirit thought with dread.

_What's up with these books? It has to be bad if Shinigami-sama was considering not telling us..._ Maka was serious as she awaited Shinigami's explanation.

"But only after you burn them all. Here's the list- have fun~!"

_More like considering whether _to _tell us._

Maka deadpanned at the starch white, goofy skeletal mask. Shinigami waved a thick stack of paper in Maka's face, shich she frowned at severely. "Here, take it. If you stare at me any longer my head will explode. Now, shoo-shoo!" Spirit took the papers from Shinigami with a quiet 'domo' and guided Maka from the Death Room.

"Shinigami-samaaaaa!" Maka whined, waving her persistent fists in the air. Moaning, Maka settled down, content as she could be with Spirit dragging her by the scruff of her jacket. She looked at her chunky shoes and sighed, defeated. "So, when do we start, papa?" Maka looked up at her starry-eyed father.

"Gaaah! Maka's so cute right now, calling me papa, and looking up at me like that! Uuuuuaaah~!" Eyebrow twitching, Maka glared viciously.

"Be serious! You're such a-"

"Fools! How dare you pass by me without acknowledging me. Is my power really so great that the unworthy are unable to witness me and all my glory?" _Oh no that voice_, Maka whined inside.

"Excalibur! Hey, what's up? It's been a wh-!" _Of course papa would get along with him..._

"Fool! What a stupid question. I am always never not well." Spirit opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the pale alien's cane lodging itself in his frontal lobe. "Fool! You did not know the answer, for my-"

"I'm getting out of here." Maka grimaced as she slipped into the hallway. Spirit's laughter and acceptance, and Excalibur's arrogance and story-telling died down as Maka shut the door behind her. In the hall, she saw Soul sitting on the floor, one knee draw up to his chin, hands in his pockets. Beside him stood Crona, anxious and smiling.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?" She smiled when Soul looked up at her. He took Maka's offered hand and lifted himself from the floor. "You too, Crona? I thought you had another class after Stein's..." Maka asked as she turned to him.

"Oh! Uh, well, after class, since you and Soul weren't there-" (cue Maka's death glare at her partner) "-I asked Professor Stein where you were. He, uh, he told me you were here. So-So I came." Crona blushed and looked down as he poked his fingers together. Maka, however, paid him no mind. She turned to Soul, tapping her left palm with a good and thick book. Soul threw his hands up, stepping backwards.

"No, no, Maka! Please!" His back hit the wall. _Oh shit,_ Soul inwardly bemoaned.

"_Maka Chop! Maka Chop! Maka Chop! Maka Chop! Maka Chop_!" She relentlessly pounded her book into Soul's face and skull and neck. "How dare you ditch class like that! I _explicitly_ asked you to go and take notes for me! Now how am I supposed to study? Huh?" Soul cowered against the wall as Maka was poised for another 20-hit combo, her eyes the very own gates to Tartarus.

"Damn it all to hell, Maka!"

"Maka! Maka, it's okay! Since neither of you were there, I took notes for the both of you." This was the second time Maka was offered paper today. Except this time it ignited a firestorm.

"SOUL EVANS. YOU FORCED CRONA TO TAKE NOTES FOR US? KYAAAA!" Maybe a 50-hit combo would have been a better estimation.

"Oh, no. I seem to have only made it worse," Crona squeaked.

"Maka, let's go." Spirit swooped in and grabbed Maka's arm, leading her around a nearby corner. Kicking and screaming, Maka shook her fist at her weapon as she was dragged away by her father.

"Thank God," Soul growled, rubbing his swollen cheek. "That was so not cool of her." He looked over and saw Crona whimpering, clinging to the notes he took. He looked pathetic.

"W-Where is he taking Maka?" Soul contemplated Crona's words for a moment, partially curious himself. He picked himself up off the floor once more and stretched. He cocked an anxious eyebrow as he heard his jaw pop.

"Uh...

"I have no clue." Seeing the mortified look on Crona's pitiful face, Soul felt guilty and responsible. He gaped at himself. "H-Hey, you wanna' go to the infirmary with me? I really think Maka hurt me..."

"Y-y-y-y-y-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, let's go." Soul stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked alongside Crona, who looked around nervously. Tasting blood in his mouth, Soul spit it out onto the floor. Without a doubt, Soul knew it was black. Grimacing, he rubbed it into the carpet with the heel of his shoe. Regular blood turned black after a while, right?

* * *

**A/N: Shout out to the manga with the pumpkin panties bit. It always peeved arborealSoothsayer that they called them "bloomers" in the anime.**

**If anyone would be kind enough to be arborealSoothsayer's humor beta/coach, that would be much appreciated.**


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two:**

**To the Bowels of Shibusen! One Without the Other Is Zero?**

* * *

"Papa! Papa, where are we going? This is the dungeon, not the library!" Maka was forced to jog behind Spirit to keep up with him. Even though she had long legs, her dad was the one she inherited them from. His silence and serious demeanor made Maka nervous. Additionally, she had no clue where she was going, which piled onto her anxiety. And she was starting to feel guilty about mercilessly beating Soul. He kind of deserved it, though. Or did he? All he was doing was waiting for her the whole time. She decided she would apologize to him the next chance she got.

"Maka, you are to never speak of the next hour of your life to anyone, hear me? It never happened."

"Yeah, sure." Maka crossed her arms and rubbed her elbows. She saw cobwebs and spiders, and heard rats. "Oooh~" She whined.

"I have not read a single book on this list, nor should I ever. The same goes for you and everyone else on Earth. I don't know what's in them, but the titles give me ideas I'm not particularly fond of. Now, Maka... if you steal one of these books... a punishment worse than death would be imposed." Maka stopped in her tracks. _These books... what the __**hell**__ is going on_? "What, you planned on stealing one?" Spirit turned around, smiling. Maka was taken aback by his casual behavior after such a speech. Then again, there was no other way for Spirit Albarn to be.

"I didn't know books beyond level-four existed." Maka stated as she began to again walk beside her father.

"...they don't." Spirit's voice was dark. Maka's eyes narrowed. _So none of this is known by the general public. What a strange punishment._ Maka sighed, following her father down corridor after corridor. They were going deeper and deeper into the foundation of Shibusen. Maka thought they walked for almost half an hour. She wasn't tired, but her whole body ached from this one continuous motion. Relief was the only thing on her mind.

"We're almost there. See that door down there? That's where the first few hundred or so books are." Maka gaped at her father's words. _My punishment's gonna' be never ending..._ Maka looked over Spirit's shoulder. Twenty yards before them was a monumental iron door with diamond bars laid across it. _Talk about maximum security._

"I never knew this exis-" Catching her father's glance, Maka snapped her mouth shut. "It doesn't exist," she mumbled under her breath. As they approached the door, the suits of armor lined along the walls began to stir. Maka yelped, latching onto her father's arm.

"Don't worry. They know who we are; they open the door for a select few people. They're here to defend against evil, which they can easily see in a person's soul, and any witch that dare tread these halls. Come on, the door's open now. There's an oven in there we can use."

When they stepped into the room, Maka gasped. There were thousands upon thousands of books everywhere. The room was gigantic, the size of at least one football field. Shelves stood atop shelves, filled to the brim with literature; the shelves rose to the ceiling, at least thirty feet above their heads. Mountains of books were placed at intervals to allow passage to the shelves, and formed walls to the sides of paths that wound around the room and broke off to form cluttered side ways. Maka's attention, though, was caught by the fact that none of the books "existed." Where did any of them come from? Who wrote them? Why couldn't people know about them? Could a book really be that dangerous?

"Don't touch any book not on the list." Spirit grabbed Maka's outstretched hand.

"Um, s-sorry." She pulled her left hand to her chest, examining the book she had reached for. _Soul Manipulation_. She looked around the book and saw another one that took her breath away. _The Studies of Dr. Franken Stein_.

"We'll try to get the first thirty or so books today. Here's the list. Pick some books to find. They're in alph..."

Sweating, Maka threw her fifteenth book into the oven. She felt terrible inside. She was conflicted, depressed, angry, and disappointed. She wanted to read every book here. Hell, she could _live_ here! But no, instead she had to burn books that would never be seen again. She wiped the soot from her hands on her jacket. Maka sighed and moved to look for another book. Realizing she was heading for the iron door and the two books she saw earlier, Maka's heart began to race. She would steal both books. _Punishment worse than death or not._

Looking around the nearby vicinity for Spirit and not finding him, Maka licked her lips, deciding it was safe. She hastily stuffed _Soul Manipulation_ into her skirt on her right hip, then fumbled for Stein's book. The book slipped from her grasp and knocked over a stack of books taller than her, which clattered to the ground like an explosion. The hair on the back Maka's neck stood on end as she jumped out of her skin. She took a shaky breath and picked up Stein's book, pulling back the waistband of her skirt to stick her professor's book on her left hip. Maka folded her jacket across her chest, shivering, even though the air itself was sweating from the heat. Her heart beat was loud and painful. She shook her head and scrambled for the next book she needed to burn. Maka was thankful that the boks were small enough as to go unnoticed by her father for the duration of her punishment.

After her twenty-third book, Spirit approached her and put his hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch. "You're done for the day, so you can leave. Tomorrow, at four, we'll start again. You know the way, right? I might be late."

"Yeah, I got it." She was eager to put as much distance between them as possible. She felt like there was a huge sign above her head that said, 'I stole a book! Actually two books. They're right here on my hip!' with an accompanying arrow pointing at her torso. Maka was a hopeless case; no matter how much rehab she went through, she could never stop stealing books.

"Good. You can find your way down _and_ up, then."

"You're not coming with me?"

"Nope." Spirit shut the iron door on Maka's heels. She squeaked, standing stock still. She had to walk alone? In the dark? In a dungeon? With creepy spiders. She cried on the inside.

The climb to the surface was much shorter, and more pleasant, than the descent. When she opened the door to the hallway around the corner of the Death Room, Maka didn't realize how deprived of oxygen she was. Taking a breath of fresh air, she sighed happily. She decided to ask Stein for the daily homework assignment she missed because of her slack-off weapon. The one she nearly beat to death-

"Stein!" Maka touched his book nervously, looking down at the unseen item. What did he write that was so bad? She knew he was a shady person to begin with, that he was susceptible to insanity, but how far did any of that reach? She remembered Crona had taken notes for her and Soul and that meant he probably wrote down the assignment. Still, she felt a morbid curiosity to see Stein just then.

"Professor Stein, are you in here?" Maka peeked her head into the empty classroom, looking around.

"Yes, Maka?" Stein looked up from the paperwork on his desk. He pushed his glasses up, the gleam of the light shining brightly on the lenses. His silver hair was loud in its introverted opposition. The thin, swirling stream of smoke that spewed from the cigarette perched on his lips mocked her and shamed her. He seemed to look even more devious than usual because of what Maka learned. His stare sent a shiver down her spine. What did he _know_ that should be burned?

"I wanted to know what the homework assignment for today was." Her voice was only slightly shaky.

"Oh. Well, I'm sure Crona wrote that down for you. By the way, do you know what happened to Soul? I saw him in the infirmary..." Maka became stiff as a board, her face scarlet. "Huh?" Stein cocked his head, curious.

"Oh- Uh, I gotta' go! Thanks, Professor Stein!" Maka bolted from the room, holding the books to her hips with her elbows. Stein eyed her fleeting figure, twisting the bolt sticking out of his head.

"Hm..."

* * *

"Soul?" Maka knocked on the door to the infirmary and stepped inside.

"Maka. I was worried that you wouldn't come." Naigus smiled, swiveling around in her chair. Maka smiled back, shrugging.

"I'm sorry. I was busy. How is Soul?" Maka looked around Naigus and saw Soul's shadow against the curtains lifting itself from a bed. Maka's stomach dropped. "Is he hurt bad?"

"Oh, it's nothing to worry over. He has a cut on his jaw and a lump on his forehead, but he'll be totally fine by next week." Maka let out a small noise, still guilty. She nodded and walked over to Soul.

Normally, under any circumstance, Maka was immune to seeing Soul's chest. But after her recent feelings of being inadequate, his old wound slammed her as hard as it did when she first saw it. The monstrous, diagonal scar marring his chest screamed at her. How many times had he hurt himself for her? _How many, Maka!_ Yes, it was the duty of the weapon to protect their meister no matter what, but that made no sense! It was the meister's responsibility to turn that weapon in to a Death Scythe for Shinigami. So how did that work out? Besides, she cared for Soul. He was her partner and she wanted to grow stronger for him; he would never become a Death Scythe by her hand if she didn't grow along with him. She gripped the soft black corner of _Soul Manipulation_. No matter what it cost, she would make sure nothing ever hurt him again. She knew that even if she fell to insanity, she would protect him. That was how much she cared.

His shirt slid down his torso.

"Ma-"

"I'm sorry for hitting you earlier." Maka bowed, carefully keeping the books at her hips. Soul cocked his head, worried. For a split second, he had seen so many emotions in her eyes. He was surprised more than anything, though. Hadn't she gotten over his injury?

"I'm fine, Maka. Let's go." Maka smiled at his nonchalant behavior and nodded her assent. Soul picked up his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder. "Thanks for everything Naigus." He tipped his head to Naigus and opened the door for Maka, who wiggled her fingers at the nurse.

"Anytime, Soul. Bye, you two!"

"What did you and Spirit do?" Soul glanced over at Maka, who clasped her hands behind her back.

"Punishment. Now let's hurry up and get home."

The seat of Soul's motorcycle was so hot it burned Maka, even though she sat on her jacket. Forced to stand, hunched over Soul, Maka rested her head on his shoulder. He smelled nice, even though he didn't wear cologne. His scent was gentle and reminded her of the one and only time he played the piano for her.

_Nt_.

Maka's eyes widened. The wind burned them and made them watery, but her fear kept them open.

_Nnnnt_.

_Oh, no_, Maka whimpered. Stein's book was slipping down her thigh. If it fell a couple more inches, it would rest against Soul's back. If that happened, he might think she grew a dick and got a boner, or that there was something hard in her skirt.

_Nnnnnnnnnt_.

_Oh, you stupid damn book!_ Maka let go of Soul's shoulder with her left hand, putting all her weight on his right side. She grabbed Stein's book and yanked it from under her skirt, causing the plaid clothing to rise up and encase Soul's head within it. For a second, Soul didn't know what was happening, until he turned his head and saw Maka's pale thigh in his face. He screamed, trying to control the bike. Maka's unbalanced weight he could cope with. Being under Maka's skirt was something else entirely. She tried to stuff the book back in her skirt, but hit Soul on the back of his neck twice before it was held securely to her waist.

Soul shouted as many obscenities as he could before he died as they veered into an alley. Maka had him in a chokehold, yelling and spitting in his ear. She closed her eyes without thinking. Soul drove the bike into a mound of trash cans and trash bags, scattering them about to look like a mini-landfill. Maka flew over Soul, face planting in to the side of a grimy building and dropping on top of a dumpster.

Soul was squished between the bike and the wall. If he didn't have excellent reflexes (all thanks to Maka's reckless fighting) and turned his arm in to a sickle, using the back of it to keep from damaging the bike itself, he would have been sliced in half. Another sad fact is, he almost castrated himself.

"M-Maka, you alright?" Soul groaned as he turned the bike off, carefully heaving it from his crumpled body. Maka moaned and flipped onto her back, but instead found nothing but air and dropped like a sack of bricks to the asphalt.

"Ow-ie," she cried. As long as the books were hidden, though, she begrudgingly didn't care.

"What the hell was that, Maka?" Soul stood over his bike, weeping. "It's gonna' be in the shop for weeks..."

"What about- your partner... who was thrown in to a wall." Maka winced as she sat upright, grinning and holding her left knee. She realized that she never felt like she was having fun unless she was in harm's way. "I heard it snap... but the bone doesn't appear to be broken. Uh." Maka looked up at Soul. He had a hand in one pocket, rubbing his cheek with the other, examining Maka. He smirked.

"Weirdest. Partner. Ever." But he couldn't help but feel like he wouldn't be complete without her.

She put her right leg in front of her, using it as leverage to ascend to a shaky standing. She took a step forward with her left leg and immediately felt a ripping pain behind her knee. Her leg buckled, trying to take her down with it, but Maka stayed standing.

_Fuhp_, went Stein's book, like it cussed at her.

She looked down at the leather-bound book, which mocked her heartlessly. Then, Soul's hand appeared and took up the book. He flipped it around to see the cover properly, but just as quickly, Maka yelped and tackled Soul to the ground. She landed on top of him, huffing and fighting for her possession. Soul chuckled and let her have the book, instead choosing to wrap his arm around her neck.

"Jesus, you just can't help yourself, can you?" He guffawed, lifting them to an upright position. He then squatted and put his back to her. "I could care less if you stole another book. Get on." Maka looked up at him, holding her book to her chest. She wasn't amazed by his words, but by his acceptance. She smiled and gave his back a curt nod. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hair tickling her nose as she bent forward. He grabbed her thighs as he stood up.

"Thank you, Soul..."

"No problem. I wouldn't be a cool guy if I left you out here all alone while you were hurt."

_That's not what I meant_, she smiled. His scent was the only possible thing that could pull her from her dark day.

_No,_ Soul thought to himself. He wouldn't be _Soul_ without her.

* * *

**A/N: With the help of a dear friend, arborealSoothsayer was swayed into the belief that the original chapters of LIP were much too long. Therefore, the first two chapters have been ripped in half and reposted. She very hopes you enjoy this new set-up.**


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three:**

**Soul Feels It Down in His Underpants! Someone Finally Got Hurt?**

* * *

**An exert from a random page in **_**The Studies of Dr. Franken Stein**_**.**

_**A Meister's Strength**_

_A meister's strength is not only measured by his own soul, but also by the soul of his partner. These soul wavelengths may strengthen with experience, but there is a limit to how large any one soul can expand. There is an equation to discover one's limit, known as the Stein-Albarn Law. The equation is..._.

_By what has been deemed law by Shinigami-sama, there is nothing that can be done to grow beyond this strength. But by theory, there is in fact a method for a meister's soul to expand exponentially without becoming a Kishin. For any effect to be noticed, a meister must either be exposed to or consume a fair amount of black blood. The concentration at any one time of this exposure does not matter, so long as the amount is taken. The amount of black blood consumption is not known. This technique has proven effective, though, time and time again. A meister may also continually consume black blood for increased strength. The one drawback is the newfound susceptibility to madness the meister will experience._

_(There also seems to be a lin tween a meister's consumption of or exposure to black blood and a technique called _Soul Manipulation_ discovered b ... __urther research needs to be conducted to prove this correlation)_

* * *

Hearing Soul's shoes thump against the stairs outside the apartment, Maka jumped up from her position on the couch. She yelped at the pain in her knee, but forced herself into her bedroom, leaving the door open an inch. She stuffed _Soul Manipulation_ under her mattress beside Stein's book just as Soul opened the front door. She grabbed a book from one of her many book shelves and opened it to a random page, throwing it onto her bed.

"Maka, great news," Soul said as he peeked into Maka's room, "my bike should be fixed by this time next week." Maka smiled at Soul. "Why are you standing up? I thought your knee hurt." Maka fidgeted under his confused gaze. His red eyes were too intense for her current paranoid temperament.

"I- was going to take a shower." Soul stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. Maka opened the top drawer of her chest of drawers, picking out an oversized shirt and fresh underwear. "Uh- do you mind?"

"Yeah, sorry." Soul stepped aside, watching her limp to the bathroom. She shut the door behind her. Soul turned and saw the book on her bed. It was the erotica novel he bought for her as a joke on her last birthday. "I thought she hated that book..." Soul looked at the comforter hastily thrown over the bed, a corner stuck under the mattress.

..._um..._

_Erotica novel... bed... disheveled blankets..._

One plus one equals-

"Holy shit." Soul's face was as red as the blade of his sickle as he ran for the living room and all things not pertaining to his meister mast- _Nope! Not even thinkin' it!_

Jason Statham was the only one who could fix this hard... _Grr... _**difficult...** situation. _Still. Only _Maka_ would use a book as a... um, yeah._

After Maka finished her shower, she decided it wouldn't be wise to hole up in her room the entire night, as eager as she was to get back into _Soul Manipulation_. The first couple chapters were mostly rants, but they were lucid and rational and that had to mean something. She heard the movie Soul was watching before she opened the bathroom door, and rolled her eyes. In the living room, Soul was glued to the violence on the screen, stuffing his deadpan face with caramel popcorn.

"You're gonna' ruin your appetite, Soul. It's my turn to make dinner, so gimme' half an hour to make spaghetti." She plucked the popcorn bag from Soul's lap. He fell over on his side, pouting, as if the popcorn was the only thing that rooted him to his sanity.

"Maka~ you're killing my dude time. So not cool," he groaned. Maka staggered to the kitchen and leaned against the counter closest to Soul, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. She peeked around the corner so she could see her weapon in full view.

"You killed my book time." She shot back. Soul grabbed his head and rolled around on the couch.

"Then go finish your book time!"

"Finish?" Maka stopped chewing and raised an eyebrow. "Um okay? Then I'm just making ramen. For me, not you." Soul stared at Maka, seeing her upside down from his awkward position.

"Duh, Maka." She stuck her tongue out at him and popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth. She turned around and stood on the tips of her toes as she reached for the ramen in the cabinet.

Thus, Soul felt like he was under Maka's skirt again. Except this time he was facing her and he could see everything. Like her firm, round ass and her tight purple underwear that looked so familiar and very sexy. For a cute girl, she had a tight ass. He placed a hand on his ruby face, when she was flat on her feet again, and sat up, glaring at the action-packed television screen. He stretched out and delicately clasped his hands over his problem area, hoping Maka wouldn't look over and notice.

Turns out, Maka's a flat-chested, ignorant, genius of cute girl with a tight ass. Her eyes were as glued to the microwave as his eyes were to her seconds before. After a moment's consideration, he felt guilty, like he'd somehow taken advantage of her. Another moment's consideration came by and he decided that he was a guy and that's just how guys were. He was satisfied with this conclusion. He was too cool for complicated shit. But another moment's consideration tore his peace from him with shame. _His own meis-_

_Beeeeeep._

Maka opened the microwave, dumping the ramen from a styrofoam cup and into an orange bowl. She dropped the empty cup into the trash can, then found a fork as noisily as she could and shuffled toward her bedroom. Her oversized shirt carefully hid her sexy booty, which was possibly the best kept secret in Death City. Why was Soul noticing all this now? He groaned and whimpered, confused, upset, and horny.

Thinking about Maka in her bedroom with that erotica novel only made his situation much, much harder to deal with. Shitty pun intended.

Maka flipped through _Soul Manipulation_, trying to find the "series of circumstantial and unfortunate events" it mentioned in the passage she read earlier. Sadly enough, she found not a lick more than those six words. She sighed as she leafed through each individual page from beginning to end. She had no more luck than she did the first time around.

She set the book down beside her cold and uneaten bowl of ramen on her nightstand. Standing from her bed, Maka lifted the mattress and pulled out Stein's leather-bound book, though it reminded her more of a journal. She vainly hoped the book might mention what happened. Instead, she found a passage as equally as interesting and cryptic.

"_A Meister's Strength._ Aw, and there's a name scratched out. Hm..."

As soon as Maka came back to her body, she realized her hands were shaking and her heart was pounding. The black blood she needed was at her very fingertips! All she needed was to learn Soul Manipulation as best she could now and she could control Soul and take some of his blood. It would be easy. She could steal a syringe from Naigus, and maybe even some spray to numb the pain-

She shuddered, hitting her head against the wall behind her as she physically flinched from her thoughts. There was a resounding thud in her silent room. "No... no..." Maka bowed her chin, causing it to touch her sternum. Tears rolled down her pink cheeks.

"I'm... I'm..." She shook her head vigorously and reached for the little black book of _Soul Manipulation,_ hoping there would be anything that could key Maka in on the identity of the author and the slovenly destruction made to the page as Stein, or maybe someone else, scratched out the name of his cohort.

* * *

"Maaaan, we have to get up so early since you wrecked the bike..." Maka yawned over her bowl of cereal, trying her hardest not to face plant in to the dish. Soul gripped his spoon, glaring at Maka from across the table with tired eyes.

"_Me_? You're the one who started freakin' out for no reason!" He slammed his spoon onto the table and tore a chunk out of his toast with his pointy teeth. Maka sighed, too exhausted to argue back and prove that he was the one at fault. She just wanted to get to class so she could lose herself in her books. Soul fought back a yawn as hard he could. He gripped the edge of the glass table, face distorted in determination. "Mmmmlh... mbbllllhhh..."

"You look like you're about to have a conniption, Soul," Maka jeered, hiding her smile with her spoon. Suddenly, a crack appeared in the glass around Soul's hands as he fought against a second yawn. "Oh- oh no, Soul! No, just yawn! Just yawn!" The glass screamed just an octave lower than Maka as Soul's grip broke the table, sending their bowls and the flower pot crashing to the floor in a shimmering shower of shards.

It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

"Fu-fu-FUUUUU-FWAAAAAAAA!" Soul reared back in his seat, knees kicking up against the white metal lining that once held the glass in place. He tumbled backward in his chair, landing on his back and falling asleep. Maka's mouth fell as she gaped at the horrid destruction.

"Th-that was an antique from gammy. H-how _dare_ you, Soul!" Maka reached across the table and hurled Soul's bowl, glass, spoon, and shoes at him, followed by the toaster, microwave, and anything else in her reach. "_You fucking idiot, you should have just yawned god damn it!"_

The walk to Shibusen was filled with tension, beatings, and a sexy someone-cat trying to make a move on Soul.

"Maka, for the _millionth_ time, I said I'm _sorry_." Soul sighed, resting his head on his forearm. Maka growled, murderous intent gleaming madly in her eyes. They were late for class, but their tardy would go unnoticed by Stein since he himself seemed to be running late.

"What_ever_! It's all your fault because you wouldn't. Freaking. Yawn!" She crossed her arms and closed her eyes, seething over the loss of her one and only heirloom. "And to think I was going to buy you all those cool jazz records for Christmas..."

"Dear God, I just want to go to sleep..." Soul let out a meek yawn and let his head fall back to his arms. He sighed. _Wait for it... wait for it..._

"_NOW _YOU DECIDE TO YAWN? NOW? **NOW?** WHAT THE HOLY MOTHER OF JESUS IS YOUR MOTHERFU-"

"Good morning, class!" Stein rolled in, without falling out of his chair for once, smiling brightly at everyone (read: waiting for Maka to complete her sentence). Everyone in the classroom was looking at her, except for Soul, who was snoring and blowing a snot balloon. Maka whimpered and let her head fall down onto the table.

"Good morning, Professor Stein," Maka moaned sadly. Stein began to spin around in circles on his swiveling chair, twisting the bolt in his head.

"Everyone needs to turn in their homework from yesterday right now. No late work accepted; you either did it or didn't do it." Maka snapped her head up, horrified as she stuck her lips out at Stein.

"H-homework," she whimpered. Maka looked over at Soul, hoping he didn't do it either. He stood from his seat, paper in hand. "You did your _homework_? You jerk!"

"Wha? I'm a jerk because I was responsible for once?"

"Exactly! Why did you do your homework? And why didn't you remind _me_?" She beat Soul's back as he scooted away from his sleepless meister, who obviously spent all night doing her 'book time.'

"Because this essay is worth twenty percent of our semester grade. I'm already teetering on failing Stein's class and it wouldn't be cool if I didn't pass. I didn't tell you because you were holed up in your room all night-"

"IT'S CALLED KNOCKING!" She threw a book at Soul, who was handing in his paper to Stein, but missed and hit the professor instead. Soul leapt away from Stein, who stayed calm as an unperturbed Buddha.

"Maka... do you have your essay?" His voice was calm, yet pointed. Maka winced, leaning back in her chair.

"Uh, n-no, sir..."

"And why is that?"

"Book Time, sir..."

"Maka Albarn... assessment for today... F."

Maka's white flag flew high that day.

* * *

**A/N: arborealSoothsayer has created a tumblr page for LIP. If you happen to be interested in it, the link is on her profile. She'll keep you up to date on the condition of her story, and maybe even give you a little preview of the next chapter. Go check it out, follow her, repost her blog, whatever you like!**

**arborealSoothsayer sends her love.**


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four:**

**Maka's Impending Inferno! Pulling Leads to Shoving?**

* * *

Maka waddled along behind Soul, resting her head against the back of his neck. She was holding onto both of her partner's shoulders, resting her eyes. Their bodies moved as one, accustomed to the step of the other's, if there really was a difference between the two, even if there was, technically, only one person walking. They did not find this confusing at all; rather, they found it comforting. Maka sighed and turned her head.

"We can skip our afternoon classes if you want," Soul offered, keeping his head straight and his hands in his pockets. Maka snorted.

"I wish. I have to bur-" Make winced at her breach of confidentiality- "I have punishment today at four, so I can't." She brought her arms up and threw them over Soul's shoulders where they bounced against his chest as they walked. She closed her eyes and felt herself fall into Soul's body, finding it cool and relaxing. Suddenly, they stopped in front of the missions board. "Soul, we can't take an extracurricular lesson yet. At least not today." Maka picked her head up, cocking an eyebrow.

"Just scoutin' out the territory."

"Yo, Soul!"

"Hey, Black Star. What's up?"

"Tsubaki!" Maka cheered as she hopped over to her taller counterpart and hugged her. "Are you and Black Star going on a mission?"

"Yeah," Tsubaki said with some skepticism. "Black Star has it in his head that we need to do at least one mission a week now." Her face fell considerably as her sentence wore on. Maka frowned with her friend, sympathizing.

"He's a handful, isn't he," Maka gave her friend a gentle smile, who returned it in kind.

"What about you and Soul?" Tsubaki tilted her head, a wider smile gracing her features.

"Not today. I have my punishment at four."

As they continued their pleasantries and quant conversations, Maka grew more comfortable in her skin. The stress of yesterday and today melted away, but returned when their friends bid them farewell, leaving for their extracurricular lesson in Siberia. Maka sighed and turned to Soul, motioning for him to turn around and lead the way. He quickly shifted into his pillow form, transporting Maka to their next class.

The rest of their classes went by smoothly, with no more heart-breaking Failures for Maka. She kept close to Soul, making sure he stayed a pillow. Physical Education woke her up from her stupor, though. Today was her turn for the sprint. She came no where close to beating her record run, but the shock of the adrenaline snapped her out of her trance. She showered with the Thompson sisters afterwards, chit-chatting about nothing and hoping four o'clock would never come.

Unfortunately, said time rolled around with frustrating brevity. Her mood darkened with each step forward she took. She found turning around or walking backwards made her feel a fraction better about her situation. The fact that Spirit showed up half an hour later, drunk and smelling of ChupaCabra's only angered Maka more. And with each book she incinerated, she fell further and further into the pits of PMS.

However, the upside to her father's drunkenness was the fact the she carried out a few books in her hands (though she also stuff three or four into her skirt again). Her addiction was getting worse and worse. By the end of the week, she had so many books under her mattress she had to start hiding them in the piles of clothes, clean or dirty she could never distinguish, that began to find their way in Maka's room. Floor space was soon scarce, and within a month, Soul threatened to call the TV show Hoarders if she didn't straighten up her act. Stupid pun intended, he had concluded.

So, between extracurricular lessons, it was Maka's own personal mission to find a new place to hide her forbidden books, yet also to keep them on hand in case she needed a reference; she skipped back and forth between the books, comparing notes and results to find correlations the authors might have missed. She had no such luck. Everything the authors knew had apparently been disclosed amongst themselves. Maka had a lock installed on her closet and bedroom doors, measures taken to prevent Soul from discovering the mother load of what could have easily been mistaken for an illegal book trading black market. As if it was bad as Mexico's kidney market.

When Shinigami's entire list of Books to Be Burned had been completed, Maka had an innumerable amount of books tucked away in her closet. She almost thought of creating a secret space in the ceiling for stowing away books, but felt that was going overboard. She stayed locked in her room for as long and as often as she as she could, ignoring Soul's pleas for her to come out, even going as far as to forget to eat for days on end until Soul himself had to feed her. He never complained about her condition, though. Whatever it was, he said to her during one resonance, she needed to let it go while they were taking extracurricular lessons so they could fight properly. He also said she could tell him what it was when she figured out whatever it was she was trying to understand. He knew her so well, and Maka knew that, and Maka was grateful.

She was glad she didn't let Soul read Stein's book when it fell out of her skirt. She was also glad she thought to have the locks installed. The things she was learning from the books were possibly fatal, for both the meister and opponents alike. Soul would never in a million years consent to her self-experimentation. She flipped through _Soul_ _Manipulation_, hoping she could execute the technique by herself. It was not possible. She needed a weapon to resonate with her and amplify her own soul.

But before Maka would allow herself to attempt Soul Manipulation in battle, there was a question in the back of her mind that needed to be answered. Did the technique affect Soul? And if so, in what way? Would the black blood within him act as another catalyst for the ongoing war of insanity being waged inside him? These questions needed to be answered if she was to access this hidden ability.

The first dozen books she picked up did not teach her anything relevant. She skipped from book to book, following implications and outright references that were so vague themselves. And then, just when she was about to give up entirely and burn the books in the nearby desert, she found a page in Stein's book that folded out, perpendicular to the spine. It was the most random page in the middle of the book, but it was dedicated to the effect of Soul Manipulation on the mesiter's current weapon. Maka was absorbed by the little fold-out, which summed up everything she needed to know in eight, short little paragraphs. She laughed after rereading it for the hundreth time. She had to make sure she wasn't misconstruing the smudged words on the old canvas.

"You're safe," Maka whispered.

* * *

In hindsight, Maka knew that March thirty-first was the day it all began. It was the day she began her slow swing dance down the steps that led to the gates of hell. And if March thirty-first was a door, it would have a sign that clearly read in bold red ink, "All Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter Here." But there was no going back in time to undo what was done. Technically, it was not a mistake. It was simply a course of action that had to be taken. Everyone knew that and everyone accepted that. No matter how painful the road was that they were set upon.

* * *

**(March 31)**

"Hey, Maka, Soul, Father wishes to see you." Death the Kid caught the two just as the bell rang to dismiss the class.

"Um, okay. Why?" Maka asked, Soul hanging back in his seat. His feet were crossed and resting on top of the desk, his arms folded and hands laced together behind his head. He never really needed to listen to anything people said, because Maka would repeat it verbatim to him later anyway. He sighed, thinking about the new Jason Statham movie that was coming out that weekend. He would definitely do whatever it took to convince Maka they should go. Maybe she would give up one night of Book Time (yes, he now capitalized the term) to 'spend some quality time with her partner.' Yeah, he would totally use that trick on her. Guilt her into going with him. Heh. Heh-heh, heh-heh.

"Soul!" Maka poked the side of his head, a distasteful look of agitation discoloring her face. He cracked an eye open.

"What?" He croaked. She sighed and straightened up, shaking her head. Her hands were on her hips. Irritated, Soul looked around her petite figure and saw that Kid had left. "Ah, alright. Lets go." He unfolded himself from his comfortable position and stretched, yawning.

"What was so wrong with yawning two months ago, huh?" Maka nagged as they walked down the hallway to the Death Room. Soul folded his hands behind his head again, rolling his eyes.

"Jeez, will you never let me live that down?"

"You still haven't apologized!"

"Bull!"

"I mean genuinely!"

"_Bull!_"

"Whatever," Maka growled as she opened the door to Shinigami's chambers. Soul stopped and stared at Maka's back, thinking as many horrible things as he could before she yelled at him to hurry his ass up. _One of these days,_ he thought, _when she really needs them most,_ _her tampons will be_ gone.

"A_ha!_" Soul blurted, pumping his fist into the air. "It's those purple panties your perverted father bought you that one time!" He laughed, proud of his personal victory. Steam screamed as it burst from Maka's ears.

"Where the hell did that come from? _Maka Chop!"_

"Hi! Hello! Hey, there! How are you guys?" Shinigami looked down at them from his place in the mirror and gave them a salute. Maka bowed, smiling politely at him.

"Good afternoon, Shinigami-sama."

"What's up?"

"Well, you see, there's a small matter I'd like you to see to in Japan." Shinigami cocked his head, waiting for a reaction from either of them. When he received none, he hummed and nodded his head, then poked a finger into the air. "It'll probably last through this weekend, so you'll be exc-"

"Wait, through this weekend? N-No! We can't do that! Um, Maka and I were gonna' hang out this weekend, and-"

"Wha?" Maka's mouth dropped as she was taken aback by Soul's excuse. He never wanted to spend time with her. Soul's gaze twitched over to Maka's every other second, his eyes the size of plates.

"Yeah, yeah! It needs to be postponed! Like... Sunday! Sunday, we can do Sunday. Right, Maka?" He looked over at Maka, nodding his head vehemently. Maka blinked at him once, dismayed.

"...we don't have anything planned for this weekend," she said as frankly as she thought it. Soul fell over, physically wounded by her words. Shinigami watched him curiously, then swung his head around to Maka. "I'm sorry about that, Shinigami-sama. Um, so is there a Kishin in Japan?"

"No, but he's very close to becoming one- which is why it _can't_ be put off until Sunday. Sorry, Soul-kun." Shinigami tilted his head sympathetically to the poor teenage boy, then focused once more on Maka. "Your quota for this mission is three Kishin eggs. Your deadline is Sunday night. You know the drill: any other classes missed after that date will be counted as regular absences." Maka nodded her head.

"Is there pre-paid lodging?"

"Of sorts."

"Of sorts." Maka repeated, dipping her chin down.

"You stole the words right out of my mouth, Maka-chan!" Shinigami giggled. "Now hurry along! You're no exception, Soul-kun."

"Uh, yeah. Hey, Soul. Lets go already," she said coldly, yanking Soul toward the door by the scruff of his jacket.

"This is so messed up. Seriously messed up. Not. Cool. Not cool at all, in _any_body's book! It's Jason Statham! Jason-fucking-Statham! Like! Like! _Fuck!_"

"Bye, you two! Have fun, have fun~!"

* * *

The plane ride to Tokyo grated on Maka's nerves. She was sitting behind a mother and infant -who would not, for the love of anything on Earth- stop crying. And the mother, as loving as she was, left the baby to its own devices (these included spitting on Maka, crying, screaming, and pooping). If this was how Maka herself was as a child, she couldn't fathom how her parents didn't strangle her in the crib. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Looking over at Soul, Maka was jealous of his skull-shaped head phones. His past times were things that blocked out annoying sounds. Maka's, however, had no defense against the outside world. She looked down at her copy of _The Dark Side of the Moon_ and frowned.

"S-Soul," Maka said as she poked his shoulder. She did not have so much pride that she didn't want his help. He tugged out an ear bud and looked over his shoulder at his partner. He had apparently been entranced by the clouds outside the window. "Can I borrow one?" Her shoulder rose with her voice.

"Sure." Maka was grateful when he dropped the little bud in the palm of her hand. She stuffed the skull in her left ear, the one closest to the creature that was about to make her murder an 'innocent' being. Soul smirked at his partner and returned his gaze to the ugly ocean far below him. As much as he liked the appearance of the ocean and the idea of one, he had never actually seen one up close. He thought if they had spare time in Japan they could visit the oceanfront. There was no way Maka could reject that idea. She was a hopeless romantic.

When Soul felt something tap his shoulder, he reached up to pull his other ear bud out, but stopped when he saw that Maka's head had fallen onto his shoulder. He put his hand back down on the armrest and watched her, smiling. He thought, if that baby disturbed her one more time, he would wring its neck himself.

The rest of the journey was painless, but also joyless. Soul napped with Maka; he once woke up with his own head resting against hers; and then another time, they were holding hands. He shook his head at himself over and over, eager for the physical distance that would come between the two when they exited the plane. He didn't understand Maka, or how she could be pissed at him one minute and then holding his hand and using his shoulder as a pillow the next. Girls were way too complicated.

To Soul's horror, Maka demanded they hunt the first Kishin egg as soon as they set foot in Tokyo. Instead of the physical distance he was so looking forward to, they were soon going to be meshed into one person. _Fan-fuckin'-tastic_, Soul whined as he conceded. There was no arguing with Maka. Ever. It was like trying to teach a five year old how to tie their shoe. It just didn't happen.

"Turn left here." Maka pointed at the red light at the end of the street.

"You sure your Soul Perception isn't broken? We've been making a lot of lefts," Soul noted as he flicked his blinker on. He could feel Maka shrug behind him.

"He's moving around a lot, and quickly. We're gonna' have to go after him fast and hard." She cocked her head, worried that it might have been a bad idea to chase the Kishin egg in their condition. Maka was aching all over and not entirely confident in her superb athleticism at the moment. "Right, here." Turing onto an eerily familiar neighborhood alley, Maka narrowed her eyes. Everything about these houses and the smell tugged at a memory in the back of her mind.

"Stop!"

"What? What's going on? Do you see him?"

"This is the street mama's parents live on! No! Oh, no! Why are we here? _No_!" Maka cried out, slapping her hands on either side of her head and wiggling in her seat. Her stomach burned with dread. "That's what Shinigami-sama meant when he said 'of sorts.'" This last thought made her wail even louder.

"Maka, move!"

Maka leapt from the bike, taking Soul's hand as she did so. He immediately shifted into his scythe form, prepared for battle with this Kishin egg. Maka landed on the roof of an abandoned house just as a large body threw itself at Soul's bike, destroying it and skittering across the asphalt with the screaming metal. Soul looked on in agony at the sight, but Maka became grim as she eyed the short and fat Kishin egg. He giggled stupidly as he stood from the wreckage, straightening his over-sized pants. This is when Soul's bike also caught on fire. He squealed his untold pain.

"Ooh~, look at what we-we-we-we have h-h-heeeere." His voice was as gruff and bumpy as his stuttering speech. He extended his fingers and pressed them against his brow as he examined the meister-weapon pair high above him.

"Kishin egg," Maka called out to the stubby creature, "your soul is _mine_!"

* * *

**A/N: So now, arborealSoothsayer will begin working on the next chapter. Maybe you guys will actually feel like reviewing now because of the shortened chapters. Yay. arborealSoothsayer has a disgusting headache, so she's not really in the mood for pleasantries.**

**LIP's tumblr- link on profile.**

**Peace.**


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: A very fine point was raised on the first of June by a reader of LIP. This is an exert from a review left by **_**GlitterGoat**_**, who was kind enough to explain a certain vagueness about the story.**

"_**However, there are certain plot elements that confuse me. Why would Maka hide the secret of the books from Soul for so long? And I don't think that Maka would try to implement the 'soul manipulation' methods she discovered on said books, mainly because they endanger Soul and that's he last thing she ever wants to do to him since Crona injured him."**_

**This has been explained and elaborated upon in the thick, middle-ish section of the fourth chapter. If you care at all, arborealSoothsayer begs you to clear this up with yourself. However, if you're fine with the previous obvious ambiguity of this plot element, cherry pie then.**

* * *

**Chapter Five:**

**Go, Go Power Meister! Deranged Family Is in the Near Future?**

* * *

**An exert from _Soul Manipulation._ **

_**Chapter One** (cont.)_

_All of the aforementioned abilities made the job of the meister and weapon easier, before this skill was outlawed. Is the hastened destruction of evil and insanity appropriate to deny? Who is one person to decide what is right or wrong, or what individuals can and cannot do? The ability of Soul Manipulation is unfortunately long forgotten by meisters and weapons. This is not because of some majority ruling by Shibusen, or even Death City as a whole. It was decided by one man, one fool, one traitor:_

_Shinigami._

_For centuries, Lord Death has controlled Death City (and also the supposed de facto tendencies of this world) with an iron fist. He is single-handedly responsible for obstructing the path of the total annihilation of insanity. How can we allow such power to rest in the hands of one person, and for so long? He has created a hive mind out of every meister and weapon in the world._

_Listen to me now: you are _meisters_ and _weapons_ of Death City; you can still unite yourselves and retaliate, as is your duty, against the Shibusen machine._

* * *

"Maka, move!"

Maka leapt from the bike, taking Soul's hand as she did so. He immediately shifted into his scythe form, prepared for battle with this Kishin egg. Maka landed on the roof of an abandoned house just as a large body threw itself at Soul's bike, destroying it and skittering across the asphalt with the screaming metal. Soul looked on in agony at the sight, but Maka became grim as she eyed the short and fat Kishin egg. He giggled stupidly as he stood from the wreckage, straightening his over-sized pants. This is when Soul's bike also caught on fire. He squealed his untold pain.

"Ooh~, look at what we-we-we-we have h-h-heeeere." His voice was as gruff and bumpy as his stuttering speech. He extended his fingers and pressed them against his brow as he examined the meister-weapon pair high above him.

"Kishin egg," Maka called out to the stubby creature, "your soul is _mine_!" Maka leapt from the rooftop, pulling Soul back and slashing back and forth at the Kishin egg, who Soul found oddly reminiscent of Mario. And Mario, as much weight as he had to tow around, easily evaded Maka's attacks. However, Maka knew her stamina and agility would prove her the victor; she simply needed to wear her opponent down first.

"Block!" Soul barked, preparing himself for the jarring impact.

Maka grunted at the force of Mario's blow, holding Soul horizontal to her torso. She tipped, turned, and rotated Soul against the barrage of kicks and punches Mario rained down on her. Keeping her balance as she jumped backwards over the curb, she glimpsed behind herself and saw how closely she was coming upon the abandoned house once more.

"Left!" Maka brushed Mario's arm aside with the back of the head of her scythe at Soul's warning. She swiveled Soul's sickle around to face her opponent as she raised her weapon into the air.

"Figure-Six Hunter!" She brought Soul down at an angle against the Kishin egg, cutting his right ear off when he turned, evading the brunt of Maka's attack. He let out an ear piercing scream that crippled Maka, then charged his stunned opponent, bursting through the front door of the dilapidated house.

With bleeding ears and a head splitting ringing disorienting her, Maka felt chunks of the wooden door sharply poke into her back. She shifted slightly, but found that movement only worsened the pain. Opening her eyes, she looked up and saw Mario. Sitting on top of her tiny figure, the Kishin egg was crushing her body and suffocating her; she attempted to worm her way from under him, but found the movement only forced the wood deeper into her back.

Looking up at Mario again, she saw his hands were clasped and held high above his head. She didn't understand what he was about to do until he let his enlarged fist plummet toward her face. Her fingers twitched for Soul, but she found her hands were empty. And then Soul tackled Mario, rolling across the floor with the Kishin egg. A portion of her disorientation fading away, Maka comprehended the situation. She propelled herself to a standing position and threw her arm out at Soul, silently crying out for him, unable to hear herself. Her weapon lifted himself from the mess at his feet and faced Maka, having just enough time to mouth "resonate," before Mario began to stir.

Soul launched himself as an airborne beam of light, but landed in the palm of Maka's hand as a scythe. She rolled Soul around in her hands, stepping in to a back stance. Glaring at Mario, Maka held Soul with a light grip, loosening her body and fully prepared for combat. Soul Resonance clicked at once, and the fight became one-on-one. With smarting ears, Maka let out a muffled battle cry and ran at Mario, swinging Soul back and forth at her opponent.

"Why- don't- you- just- die!" The sickle whooshed with each thrust as the meister-weapon hybrid danced a deadly swing with the Kishin egg. Maka's attacks were hit-and-miss; she took down walls and left gashes in the wood flooring of the house as often as she filleted Mario's clothing. As the tempo of their battle increased, more negligible damage was done than not on the Shibusen students' part. However, Mario kept his rhythm in perfect synchronization with his combatants, contracting when Maka expanded and expanding savagely when Maka contracted.

_Maka, don't be so impatient. Look at how he's timing his attacks to ours._

_Yeah, okay_. Maka winced at Mario's ruthless blow to her stomach. She hunched over and nearly dropped Soul at the shock of the force. Taking advantage of Maka's vulnerability, Mario swung around on his leg to deliver a debilitating sidekick to her head.

_Maka!_

Maka was thrown through a wall and landed on a gray kitchen counter, shattering the tiles behind her. She was covered in debris; an assortment of cuts, bruises, and aches littered her weakening body. She groaned as she slid off the counter, landing hard on her knees. As she tried to stand, her two-month old wound suddenly felt as sharp as it did the day she injured herself. She bit her lip at the tearing pain behind her left knee and used Soul to keep herself standing. Suddenly, the weight of the silence crashed around the meister and weapon. The ominous solitude nipped at the back of their mind. The interminable ringing in Maka's ears was the only thing that pierced the veil of silence. Turning in circles to keep her every side guarded, Maka was just as quiet and black as the night.

_Do you hear that?_ Maka asked, looking above them. Black. Dust. Mold. Scratching, and skittering. Maka's heart thudded loudly in her ears.

_Yeah. You can see him up there, right?_

_Uh-huh._

_Lets go._

Maka held the end of her scythe out, using Soul just as a blind man would use a walking cane. She maneuvered stealthily through the semi-demolished house, finding the stairs based on Mario's relative location. He was huddled in a corner, fidgeting. Maka assumed it was an ambush.

_Ready?_ Maka couldn't help but whisper in her thoughts. Soul gave a wicked smile at the vision of Mario's demise that flashed inside his mind; Maka was able to see the entire gory outburst uncensored. Soul's head twitched with a curt nod. Maka saw Mario's soul shift just as she stepped into the room.

"SCHLAAAAH, GA-GA!" Mario threw his arms into the air and ran at Maka. "MEM-MEM-MEM!"

"What, did he trip and fall on his head while we were gone?" Soul commented, flinching at Mario's bold stupidity.

"RAGH!" Maka tore the end of Soul's sickle through the air, attempting to impale the ridiculous Kishin egg. Mario easily jumped away from the blade, twirled in the air, and landed flat on his feet to Maka's right, preparing himself to charge again. _Damn it, this is too stupid!_

_Timi- Hey, what are you doing?_ Soul stuck his hand out from the tip of his sickle and held himself up as Maka set the foot of his shaft down. He was kneeling in his human form when Maka straightened herself. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, her ferocious gaze focused intently on the Kishin egg before them.

"Mem-mem, mem-mem-mem!" Mario gushed, throwing his head around without caution for his vertebrae.

"I'm sick of this! We're not getting anywhere by fighting this way. Fighting him hand-to-hand is our only option. It'll wear him down faster. Do you have my back, Soul?" Maka looked down at Soul, only seeing his soft nose and plush lips from her angle. Soul was sizing up Mario and the danger he might pose for Maka. He smirked and looked down, causing Maka to lose any sight of her weapon's visage. _The plumber here doesn't stand a chance_, Soul thought proudly to himself.

"Alright, go. I'm here if you need me." As usual, Maka was gone before Soul could finish.

Maka was as quick as a bolt of lightning, her body a blur of gray against the shadows. As fast as Mario was, he couldn't help but fall prey to several of Maka's hits. Rarely, the blows might fall short and not fully connect, but it was always enough to cause a physical stutter for Mario. Really, Soul decided, this was how their strategy in defeating the Kishin egg should have been all along. Maka was so much faster with her stunning blows without Soul, even if she did wield him with expertise; this simply proved how amazing a fighter Maka could be, and Soul entirely respected that. It was... cool of her.

And yes, Soul did, in fact, see Maka's ass many times during her up-close combat with the Kishin egg. Which he also found very cool. That plaid miniskirt hid nothing from Soul when she was airborne. He also noted that his partner was wearing those tight purple panties he now so enjoyed seeing. Maka mentally slapped Soul -though she wished for nothing more than to physically harm him-, and yelled threats from across the room that she would take his own soul if he didn't keep his eyes where they belonged. She made it a point that he knew his focus was supposed to be on the Kishin egg (however, she could not help but absolutely enjoy the fact that Soul actually found some aspect of her body appealing; after all the short jokes and boobless jokes, she thought she might have been a hopeless case). Duh, Maka. But she had such a fine-

"Soul!" Maka shouted, landing next to her weapon after having sent Mario flying through a window, which he was now half-dangling from. The Kishin egg was dead meat. Maka grabbed Soul's hand and found she was holding a scythe instantaneously. They were both more than pleased to initiate Genie Hunter and slice through the rotting vermin's exposed belly. The warm sensation on Soul's sickle set him on fire. He couldn't deny he loved the carnage. However, he was much more eager to get his hands on that monster's soul.

"Oh, yeah!" Soul shouted, jumping from his scythe form and into his human body just as Mario exploded like a supernova, leaving behind a glowing red soul for the famished weapon. "Thank you for the meal, Maka!" Soul spoke through a full mouth, licking his lips as he swallowed the silky, slimy, and sublime soul.

"Who knew cartoons could taste so good, huh?" Maka's arms were held behind her back and interlocked as she smiled at Soul. He dusted an invisible grime from his hands.

"Videogame, but whatever. You ready to go?" Soul stuffed his hands in his pockets and caught the emerald gleam of Maka's eye as she turned around, walking toward the door. Suddenly, she was thrown off her balance and face planted onto the dusty floor; the entire house was shaking, its structure destroyed by the most recent battle waged within the brown shell.

"Uh." Soul dropped unexpectedly fast to his knee as he reached for Maka.

"I think we went a little insane during that fight," Maka joked lightly, accepting Soul's assistance.

"Not funny. Come on, lets go." He ushered Maka through the quivering door, following her tiny agile figure down the staircase. A plank of wood flew from the ceiling and whacked Soul in the head, throwing him into the wall. "Ow, what the hell? So the Kishin egg won't kill me, but the freakin' house will. Just my luck."

"Hey, Soul, hurry up!" Maka shouted at Soul from the porch, watching as the far portion of the house caved in upon itself, slowly followed by the South wing on the right, then wholly collapsing. Maka put her hands on her hips as Soul kicked down the free-standing front door with an angry stomp; he was covered in dust from head to toe and smelled of old person and mildew. Maka couldn't help but laugh outright at the sight.

"If our positions were reversed, you'd be Maka Chopping me right now!" Soul barked, shaking splinters from his sickly cream hair. Unable to form a coherent response, Maka simply continued laughing. When this died down and the moment passed, she shook her head and turned around to face the dark and deserted street before them. Her shoulders sagged as she realized they would have to face her grandparents sooner rather than later. "H-Hey, Soul? Can we find a hotel..."

"Hell no! You are going to suffer through your deranged family so I can eat a good home-cooked meal and sleep in clean a bed with clean sheets!" Soul sent Maka a literally flaming glare with his blood-red eyes. He was irritable and sore. Maka let out a long moan, discomfort scrunching her face into a tight knot.

"Is it that time of the month for you or what, Soul? You're so cruel," she whined, facing him with her large green eyes. Her weapon's eyebrow twitched, his arms crossed over his chest. He was stoic, aside from the look of hate in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something fancy and sailor-worthy, but then shut it just as quickly, a wicked smile disfiguring his face. Maka's eyes narrowed, the skin around them convulsing in suspicion.

"..._purple panties_."

"I KNEW YOU WERE GONNA' SAY SOMETHING STUPID, YOU ASS!"

"You're the one who likes to show hers off!" Soul ran around the lawn in circles, holding his stomach as he cackled into the starry night sky, evading his stealthy meister's malicious intent.

"Soul Eater, you shut up and slow the fuck down right now! I am gonna' kill you, you little twit!" Maka whipped out two thick books meant for whackin' and threw herself at Soul, effectively tackling him, and shoved the first book down his throat, followed by multiple beatings from the second. That was when she felt Soul's hand. Up her skirt. Gripping her right butt cheek. All movement stopped as both meister and weapon realized the position they were in.

"Maka, I swear to God it was an accident. You tackled me and I tried to stop you from hurting me and I guess I just ended up grabbing your ass and-and-" He stopped talking when he saw the look in Maka's eyes.

If only his pants weren't ashes along with his bike. Now, when somebody discovered his body and called the police... well, he didn't even want to think about the look on the medical examiner's face. Maybe a what-the-fuck-happened-to-this-kid-before-he-died-that-created-this-disgusting-monster-in-his-pants expression would fit nicely there. Either way, he wouldn't ever know. Maka would make sure of that.

_I was born with the monster in my pants, that's what_, Soul thought, unable to help himself. He smirked at his thoughts, but then discovered that only made his problems much, much worse. And harder.

Stupid pun intended.

* * *

**A/N: Next Chapter~ dinner with the fam and a hurt-your-sensitive-teeth moment. Dunno' what else. arborealSoothsayer simply writes.**

**arborealSoothsayer apologizes for the lack of plot and increase in violence in this chapter. However, as every SE fan knows, there are simply some episodes (in the case, chapters) that are wholly dedicated to fights. arborealSoothsayer much enjoyed it, though. She finds violence amusing and equally as entertaining to write. This chapter could also be taken as an explanation of their workability and teamwork in combat, which should not be doubted by any means in this story. Yeah, that one. arborealSoothsayer will forever on use that as an excuse for nothing-but-violence chapters.**

**"****Heh. Heh-heh, heh-heh," she chuckles, flashing a wicked toothy grin.**

**And for another, so arborealSoothsayer has been reading the Rules & Guidelines and the most recent notice to be put up, and she is not pleased. She, for one, believes that the FanFiction community is turning into a playroom for sensitive little children. FF needs to create some sort of system that blocks adult content from children, if they don't want the children to fucking read it. But in all honesty, our kids today are subjected to worse stuff on TV. FF isn't changing anything by turning this website into one huge censor bar. Kids are still going to school with guns and knives, twelve year olds are still getting pregnant, and pot is still fun to talk about amongst teenagers.**

**arborealSoothsayer has ranted and she apologizes. She just wanted to share her opinion with her readers and spread the urgency to REVOLT and find some way to convince FF to change their umbrella policy. Seriously. Move people, or FF will be worse than America.**

* * *

**In the mood to flame? Fuck off.**

**In the mood to critique? Where have you been all of arborealSoothsayer's life? *she weeps***

**In the mood to ramble? By all means, arborealSoothsayer is willing to listen.**

**Peace.**


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: arborealSoothsayer, as pathetic as she is, forgot to put in, what she refers to as, a chapter exert at the beginning of the last chapter. She is very, very, very ashamed of herself because of this. All of that beside the point, she fixed this situation a while back. So, if you actually read that stuff, go check it out. **

* * *

**Chapter Six:**

**It's All about _Mas_! A Mid-Night Heartbreak?**

* * *

All boners and potential homicide aside, Soul was having a pretty good time with his situation: Maka's right butt cheek in his hand, her beautiful and ever-lasting scent hanging over him, and the dozens of literal mind-fucks going on in his head right now made Soul feel _pretty darn good_. However, he was sure the _I'm So Screwed _part of their chance encounter totally outweighed the greatness of it all. His pants were way too tight right now and Maka looked like she was about to birth a cow. Oh, right. It was socially unacceptable for a weapon to grope his meister, even on his deathbed. He forgot that bit there. But Soul just couldn't bring himself to let go of her. He was having way too much fun ignoring the consequences of his actions.

"You can let go now, Soul," Maka said sternly through her gritting teeth.

"Um. Okay." Seconds later, he slowly pulled his hand away from Maka's butt cheek. His palm felt so empty and alone. Then, it was like Maka forgot what Soul had just done. He was almost tempted to grab her ass again and taunt the lion. Her eyebrows raised to her hairline as she leaned forward and inspected Soul's eyes, first his left one, then his right one. "Hey, what are you doing? Why are you looking at me like that?" Soul was becoming irritated with Maka's intrusive sight-seeing. She was totally invading his me-space. Oh... wait...

She suddenly screamed in Soul's face, throwing herself backwards and effectively flattening her weapon's 'risen yeast.' When she felt and understood what her actions brought about, Maka leapt from Soul's crumpled and quivering body as if she flew. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking. "Ewww! Soul- _ew_! Why do you have a boner, huh? Gross!" She shook her head and closed her eyes, willing away the after-touch of Soul's boner against her butt.

"I'm- the one- who's really suffering..." Soul groaned as he cupped himself and turned onto his side, bringing both legs to his chest. With watering eyes, he tried to breathe the pain away, but found this did not help him in any way. Beneath the crushing pain, however, he was beyond enraged that Maka had been so inconsiderate with his situation; she seemed to know what was happening before she sat on it. Maka shook her head and waved a gloved hand at Soul before putting her back to him.

"You know what, lets just forget this ever happened, alright? This entire episode. I don't even care if you grabbed my butt, just... I never want to think about your boner touching my ass again..." She sighed and looked at her shoes. Now the only challenge was to force herself to confront her mother's psychotic parents. It seemed like her maternal grandparents should have been the ones who birthed Spirit, because they acted just like him. They were fruity and nuts.

Soul sat up, careful with his tender and throbbing preoccupation, and looked at Maka's dirty back. She was a sweaty mess from the fight. But from a certain angle, the moonlight seemed to make that all go away. Soul put his hand over his burning face and shook his head. He had been rejected. Frankly so, and in the most pride-wounding way possible. He was sad and defeated as he stood up and looked in the direction of his bike, if it could even be called a bike anymore. He couldn't bring himself to care about the destruction. Not when Maka didn't reciprocate what he so obviously felt. Not when Maka was so cruel to him. That just wasn't cool at all, whether she knew it or not.

_But what did he feel?_

"So, um. You ready to go see your grandparents?" Soul scratched the back of his head, but winced when he touched a lump. Maka slowly swiveled around to face him, entirely ignorant of the damage she had done to his ego, and his heart, though he would never admit to the latter.

"III guuueeess." Maka looked sadly at Soul's bike, her shoulders sagging terribly. "What're we gonna' do about your bike?"

"Leave it. It doesn't matter." He laced his hands behind his head despite the pain. "Now which way are we going?" Maka cocked an eyebrow at her weapon partner, disgruntled by his behavior.

"Soul, we can't just leave it. It's your-"

"I said leave it alone!" He whipped around and threw his hands out at his sides, glaring at Maka. She flinched at his outburst and frowned.

"Did I do something wrong, Soul?"

"No! You didn't do a damn thing." And that was half of the truth.

"Kiddos, there you are~! Lord Death said you were in the neighborhood on an extracurricular lesson." Suddenly, an old woman parked her blue moped on the curb next to Soul and Maka. "Wow, you two sure did a number on the Ohba's old house here. I saw the beginning of the fight, too! You are so much like your dear mother, Maka." The old woman fawned over Maka's successful battle as she removed her helmet and approached the two teens. Maka gave Soul a fleeting apologetic look, then turned away and smiled at her grandmother.

"Thank you so much, memaw," Maka reluctantly agreed to hug the old woman, but quickly regretted the decision. She was nearly smothered by the large breasts forcefully shoved in to her face. Ever so slightly squirming to do so, Maka yanked herself from the old lady's clutches.

"Oh, please! Memaw makes me sound so old," she laughed as she flashed a very nearly toothless grin. "Call me Nana!"

"Uh..." Soul cocked an eyebrow, unable to help himself at the name seemingly synonymous to the one Maka had tried. Maka's grandmother turned to Soul, her eyes growing big as she sized him up. Soul was very glad he was no longer horny, or else he had the feeling even worse damage would have been done to his nether regions, with as close a look as she gave him just then.

"You must be Soul Eater! Why hello, dear!" Soul was not excused from the death defying hug. Red faced, Soul resituated his headband and took in a large breath once the old woman had released him. "My _name_ is Nana. Since Maka's been mostly estranged from us her whole life, I think it would be too much to demand such affection from her so soon-" her head turned quickly to face Maka, a manic smile stretching her cheeks- "although, you're free to call me memaw whenever you'd like."

"Um, thank you, Nana. Of course." Maka blushed at the awkward position she was in and tried to shake the feeling off. "So, we'll be staying with you for the rest of our lesson?"

"Of course! Where else would you stay? You're bound to get lost in such a big city, so it's good to have family watching your back. Come here, hop on! Lets get to the house and enjoy a nice, big, home-cooked dinner." Nana jumped onto the moped, motioning for Maka and Soul to follow suit. Internalizing and burying his emotions, Soul suggested Maka sit with her grandmother on the seat while he stood on the pegs behind her. He was sure to keep his thoughts on Black Star the entire trip down the street and around the corner.

"Nana! Nana, is that yooouuu?" The tender but loud voice of an aging man sounded from a room to their right as they entered the house. To their left was the dining room, adjoined with the kitchen behind it; to their right a living room with another room behind it, and before them a small staircase that led up to a hallway parallel to them; a small hallway led from the entrance where they stood to the back of the house.

"Great house, Nana," Soul commented as he stepped forward, looking at the artwork on the walls. "Way nicer than ours." Maka frowned at him, remembering his outburst, then turned in the direction of the living room.

"Hi- grampy!" Maka hesitated in her call, unsure if she should call him by his first name as well, but decided that would be inappropriate. Nana put a hand on Maka's shoulder and laughed when her husband came into the entrance, hunched and waving a curved cane.

"That's Grumpy to you, missy!" His voice was a grumble as he shook his cane at Maka, then set it down to balance himself when a coughing fit overtook him.

"Why don't you and Soul go into the living room and watch some TV while I cook dinner." Nana walked Maka and Soul into the open and comfortable room on their right, clicking the television on and dumping the remote in Maka's lap. "Ladies first. If Grumpy starts farting, tell me. That means the medicine's working~!" She laughed as loud as she could at Grumpy, who threw a few choice expletives at his wife. Maka cocked an eyebrow at them, then looked down at the remote. She thought she should let Soul have the first pick to be nice, but then decided he wouldn't accept her offer, and that would make their current standing much, much more awkward and unbearable.

Three half-hour sitcoms later, Maka found herself seated at a long light brown table filled to the edges with food. Soul sat to her left, while Grumpy sat at the head of the table on Maka's right, and Nana sat across her. Soul took a ladle set in a blue and white striped bowl, and covered his rice in the ebi chili. Maka looked at the orange shrimp on his plate, which entirely covered the sticky rice underneath. She shook her head and sighed, settling on a paltry amount of the ebi chili in proportion to the rice.

"Oh, don't be so shy with the food, Maka! You're so little, how else are you supposed to get _bigger_?" Nana winked at Maka from across the table and dumped two full ladles worth of ebi chili on her granddaughter's plate. Blush burning brightly, Maka went rigid at Nana's remark; when Soul laughed, Maka was all too eager to let her anger out on her weapon. She hoped he would enjoy the hint of blood in his shrimp. "But you do have gorgeous legs, dear," Nana said politely as she stabbed one of the juicy shrimp with her chop sticks, plucking the meat off with her thin lips. Bewildered, Maka cocked a eyebrow at the sight, looking down at her own chop sticks distastefully, as if to say to them, _It's alright, I'll use you correctly, don't worry_.

"Yeah, and a nice ass she likes to show off," Soul snickered as he rubbed his shrimp in the rice.

"Maka Chop!" Maka growled, slamming Soul's face into his plate with the force of her blow. Nana laughed and Grumpy chuckled into his shrimp; a quiet fart sounded along with the old man, which only made him laugh harder. Nana laughed with her husband and shook her head.

"I guess violence runs in the family, huh, Atsuo?" Grumpy blanched and shrank in his chair, his eyes dull as if he were not present in the room with them anymore.

"What do you mean, Nana?" Maka asked, a small sliver of orange sauce poking out of the corner of her mouth.

"Well, you didn't think you inherited your violent streak from your _sleazy father_, now did you?" Almost every word in Nana's query was light and joking, except for the two concerning Spirit Albarn, which dripped with disgust. Maka immediately respected her dear, kooky, thankfully maternal grandparents much more after this; she laughed and placed a bite of the ebi chili in her mouth, licking her lips as she swallowed.

"Of course not! I just didn't know mama was like that, too." Maka was more than happy to learn that she inherited more than her appearance from her mother.

"Oh, yes! Kami is as powerful in fist fighting as she is with a scythe; this bled into her daily life. Your _sleazy father_ was kept in line, for the most part, because of Kami's iron fist." Nana laughed at her last comment, obviously indulging in some inside joke. Maka couldn't help but smile, affected by the turn the conversation had taken. "Anyway. She is a very stubborn, independent, and free-spirited girl. Following Shibusen's rules was not her forte, unless it was in her interests, which tended to vary with her phase-to-phase lifestyle. Like that dreadful hairstyle she had back in the day, remember Atsuo...?" Maka was stunned into silence, adoration for her mother keeping her still and breathless as Nana carried on about the type of wonderful person Kami was. As many stories and adjectives as her grandmother used, Maka could only want more.

Soul, upon seeing Maka this touched by simply talking about her mother, was just as moved. He figured she must have meant something very much to Maka to strike such a cord in her. Because of this, he felt like he resented his own parents for not loving him as much; wasn't there some rule that all parents had to infinitely love and cherish their children? But what he felt strongest was not anger or hurt, but a mutual solace. He smiled at Maka's brightness, happy to see her genuine joy.

A pang of sadness thudded within in him at the same time, though. He wished she would smile for him that way. He wished she would laugh like that for him. He wished she would adore him the same way. He wished he could touch her heart as her mother did. He let out a small breath and tiredly looked at the bits of rice and orange sauce left on his plate. He wished Maka would simply want more from him than partnership and friendship.

That night, Soul did not sleep on a bed at all. He argued with Maka for two retorts before he surrendered. Again, there was no arguing with Maka. And she had obviously taken it upon herself to be more stubborn and more violent, if it were at all possible, to somehow be more like her mother, who she seemed to know so much more about now. More. That's what Maka wanted, and that's what Soul wanted. But apples were apples and oranges were oranges.

Well after Maka's breathing had become long and shallow, Soul was still awake, his hands laced behind his head, looking up at the black ceiling. He hated the discomfort he was forced to sleep with for the next several hours. As comfortable as the blankets and sheets would have been on a bed, they did not make up for the pain the floor put him in, simply by existing. He continued to glare ruthlessly at the ceiling, the inherent darkness of the night further dampening his mood. Maka suddenly flipped onto her back and pulled the covers closer to her chin, then let her right forearm hang over the side of the bed, almost directly above Soul's head.

Soul looked at Maka's gray hand for a moment, then saw a black line just as he turned away. He looked closer at her hand and saw dozens of tiny cuts and bruises. He was willing to bet all the souls he'd collected so far that her other hand looked just as bad. His brow furrowed and his grimace deepened as he saw the dry blood congealing in the cuts that would soon create scabs, then slowly morph into pale scars. He could easily see in the dark room that her knuckles were obviously red and bruised; the first knuckle of her thumb was swollen, most likely jammed.

Tentatively, Soul touched her hand and turned it over to see her palm. There was an ugly bite mark from the pad of her thumb down to the first wrinkle on her wrist. It broke his heart to see that she had devastated her hands in the fight with Mario, that she had endured this simply to give Soul another Kishin egg. What if she couldn't fight with him as well anymore? She was a scythemeister, not a benchwarmer. Her hands were her life.

Laying his head against the pillow, he turned her palm downward again and sighed, shoving the anger down his throat. However, the white hot rage he felt toward the late Kishin egg Mario could not be easily sated. He wished the filth's death could have been much more slower, much more painful, and much more gruesome. He could not believe he had eaten the soul of such a foul beast. It was heinous for anything to threaten Maka's lifeline. Hands. Her hands were so important. They were too vital and too lovely to be defiled in any manner.

Realizing he was about to put Maka's hand in a death grip, he loosened his hold. Staring at her hand in his, Soul wished he could see it like this in the daylight. He wished he could see their hands held in public, in front of all of their friends and especially all of Death City. He was proud to call Maka Albarn his meister and dear friend (_best friend..._). Soul sighed sadly and closed his eyes, seeing the image of their interlocked hands burned into the back of his eyelids.

He let his hands slip from hers -falling further, and further away from their home-, and onto his stomach.

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**A/N:** **So as to not suffer from another catastrophic Author's Note like the last chapter, arborealSoothsayer plans on actively keeping her A/N's as short as possible from now on.**

**On another note, she started watching _Kuroshitsuji_ (_Black Butler_) and is very pleased with what she sees. Oh, fanservice. How we hate-love thee.**

**And again, please never forget that LIP has a tumblr page you can follow, and repost for all of your fellow anime-heads to see and read.**


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven:**

**A Mid-Night Change of Heart! Multiple Dilemmas and Conflictions?**

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**An exert from a random page in **_**The Studies of Dr. Franken Stein.**_

_**Black Blood as a Catalyst, I**_

_Black Blood was invented for the sole purpose of creating a Kishin. However, because of the properties unique to this technique, it is believed by some to be very useful in battle (as demonstrated by Maka Albarn and Soul Eater; and Crona and the demon weapon Ragnorok)._

_In recent experiments, it has been discovered that Black Blood can act a catalyst of sorts, or as an enhancer for abilities. My main focus as of late has been manipulating the ability of a meister's use of Soul Menace. Though only select meisters can harness this ability, I believe, with the assistance of Black Blood, any meister can develop a competent using of Soul Menace. Although the use of Black Blood puts the meister in a difficult position, if this madness can be controlled, great power is the only side effect of the use of Black Blood. The ability to fight off insanity depends on the meister's soul wavelength and the meister's personal, or inner, strength._

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Maka ghosted her way up the stairwell to her apartment, exhausted from the long day at Shibusen; school work, dissections, and her brutal exercise regimen had whittled away at her inner strength, leaving her a bundle of raw and irritable nerves that just wanted to lie down and sleep like the dead.

She found herself in the threshold of her living quarters, and was ambushed by Soul. He pushed her against the wall, taking her right hand in his and lacing their fingers together. Pulling their hands up, he pinned them next to her shoulder. He wore his usual lazy smirk, but his eyes held an intense fire, something that had frozen Maka in place.

"S-Soul, what are you doing?" She could smell his scent, smell how safe it was, how comfortable it was, how nice it was to be so close to him. It was different than their Soul Resonance- foreign, even, to the times Maka clung to Soul as if he were her lifeline.

"Shut up, Maka. You've always talked too much." He closed his eyes. His face moved closer to hers. He stuck his lips out, too, which was strange to Maka. She didn't know what he was doing, why he was this close to her, or why he seemed like he was... going to kiss her. Her eyes widened at the next sensation, then fluttered shut as a warm feeling pooled in her stomach.

He gently placed his warm lips against hers, which began to move with his on their own accord. It was like they were dancing, but with their lips; so close, so warm, so soft, so wanted. Her grip on his hand tightened, and Soul responded in kind. He brought his other hand up and placed it on her hip, possessively. All of this felt pleasant and comforting to Maka. She never expected Soul to evoke such feelings in her, or to even contemplate these feelings on his own. It was confusing for her to all of a sudden be thrown into something like this. And strangely, a good type of confusing. As he leaned more heavily into the kiss, she felt the hardness in his pants press against her waistline.

This is when the pressure against her waist, his grip on her hip, his crushing hold on her hand, and the depth of the kiss became too much for her. It hurt. It all hurt so bad that she was squirming and wincing against the pain. She pulled away from Soul's mouth and opened her eyes, only to discover that she was lying in a heap of splintered wood, Mario leering over her.

He was suffocating her, his obese person crushing her petite body, and his thick hands in a stranglehold around her neck. She was utterly defenseless against him; her arms were awkwardly pinned beneath her, and she was beyond exhausted. If the Kishin egg wasn't on top of her, she imagined she could have gone to sleep on this pile of a shattered door, which was poking into her back, breaking her skin, and thoroughly torturing her.

Mario jerked Maka's head all around as he choked her and attacked her. She coughed and managed to whine only once, the pressure on her windpipe at a crushing strength. He then let go of her throat, leaving her lying breathless and staring up at a dark and blood red ceiling covered in spinning, fuzzy black orbs. She heaved for air, then noticed Mario had put his fists together above his head. She jerked her head to the side and croaked as she tried to yell for Soul, but her efforts were snuffed out by the blow to her face.

He ruthlessly beat her with his double fist, effectively shattering and chipping away at any part of bone in her face he connected with. There was so much pain, Maka could not bear it. She saw rivers of blood flow through the air from her face, splattering across the disgusting beast above her, all over her body, and land in puddles around her. She was a doll to him.

Maka opened her wide eyes with a terrifying jolt and gasp, and saw the brown ceiling of her grandparent's guest bedroom above her. Rigid and shaking, Maka clung to the sheets on either side of her, shutting her eyes once more and getting a hold of her breathing. It was several minutes before she could stop shaking, and even then her soreness from the actual battle with Mario threatened to pull her into a flashback of her horrifying dream. She opened her eyes once more and swallowed deeply, clearing her mind.

Sometimes, Maka had good dreams. Sometimes, Maka had nightmares. Like anyone else in her position, the dreams and nightmares came and went on a whim, one that was not her own. She had accepted this long ago, when she realized the nights were out of her control. She looked at the dark ceiling once again, her eyes half-lidded with the emptiness that pervaded her fear. The emptiness always won out over every other feeling. The Numb was impermeable when she called it forth.

Maka's fingers twitched at the sudden rapping against the door. She heard Soul's voice calling her name from the other side, asking if she was decent. Deciding the answer did not matter, Soul opened the door and put one foot inside of the room. Maka's eyes rolled as her gaze moved to Soul- who was not there to save her from Mario in her nightmare. Who was never there to save her in her nightmares. Soul was silent as he took in the scene before him. For a moment, he only held her dead gaze. Then he spoke.

"Nightmare?" His voice was gentle. Maka continued to simply look at him, then nodded twice. She watched him, allowing his presence to calm her down. That was all she needed to ease her worry. Soul was her lifeline after all, she supposed. He stood in the doorway for several more moments as if he understood this, allowing Maka to take in his laid-back behavior, something she had grown to rely on some-vague-where between now and when they first met. "Breakfast," he spoke slowly, dipping his head down and exiting the room, "is probably ready now." The door clicked shut.

"Okay." This is when she remembered the dream before the nightmare.

Taking half an hour longer than usual in her morning preparation for the day, Maka was eager to procrastinate seeing Soul. She wanted to put that meeting off as late as she could, because she felt like the dream she had would play in her eyes and Soul would see. Hell, she felt like they'd all see, and nobody wanted to know that. Nobody wanted to know that she wished that's exactly what Soul would do every day after school from now on. She couldn't help but like what she felt. She frowned at her reflection and tugged on her pigtails to tighten them.

"Maka? You alive in there, kid?" Nana knocked on the bathroom door.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Almost done." Maka sighed and gripped the edge of the sink, leaning against it. How could she look at Soul the same after she'd dreamt such a painfully vivid dream. If dreams reflected inner desires, then...

"Well, just don't fall down the toilet then! I don't think my insurance covers that..." Nana left Maka with that, easily heard making her way down the old and creaking stairs.

Looking at her reflection once more, Maka furrowed her brow. She was disappointed in herself for having such a dream. Soul was her weapon partner. Any relationship beyond that could ruin the bond they had now, couldn't it? But what about last night with Soul's boner? Did that mean anything? After this thought, Maka glared. She blamed the entire situation and even her dream on Soul. If he would have been able to control his sexual desire, neither of them would have been in this awkward mess. This unnecessarily overly complicated mess of steaming fecal matter. It was like Soul had taken a metaphorical shit on their life and smeared it all over their relationship. Maka quickly decided using the word relationship was much to ambiguous for what she felt was their current standing. Her face burned red and hot.

"Men and their shit, and leaving the toilet seat up for us women to see the disgusting mess on the rim..." Maka grumbled this underneath her breath as she sat next to Soul at the table, each person in the seat they were in at dinner. She ignored her weapon partner as he looked over at her, holding a bowl close to his face. He cocked an eyebrow, confused by her inexplicable behavior, which was something to do with him. Then again, he sighed as looked at his empty bowl, almost everything Maka did was inexplicable. Soul picked at the air inside his bowl; he had finished eating ten minutes ago.

"So, um, Soul," Maka spoke up, keeping her eyes closed as she stuffed the food in her mouth. She swallowed and patted her puckered lips with a napkin, then set the chopsticks down. "When do you want to go out and look for the next Kishin egg?" Soul smirked, excited that she had asked this question so soon. He set his bowl and chop sticks down and pushed them away, crossing his arms together on the table. He rested his cheek on his forearm, looking sideways at Maka.

"Not today." He said simply enough. Maka sputtered and shook her head, her eyes snapping open. She looked at Soul full on now, horror paling her face.

"What do you mean, '_not today_?'" She cried in a panicked tone. Soul rolled his eyes at her reaction, and wrapped an arm around his head to mess with his headband. Maka screeched about responsibility, duty, extracurricular lessons, remedial lessons, grades, and a surprisingly innumerable host of other things Soul couldn't care less about. After several long minutes of this, she finally settled down in her seat, chest heaving from her lack of oxygen, which she was always so happy to deny her brain if it meant lecturing Soul.

"Jeez, are you done now?"

"Soul Eater, don't even get me started! I swear, you are so lazy! You never do anything, you know that? _I'm_ the one who does the actual fighting, and-"

"Maka, you talk way too much," Soul breathed as he rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time. He was in physical pain because of Maka; her squawking had given him a headache right in that dent above his ear, and his back, shoulders, and neck ached because he had been sitting for so damn long.

Focusing on Maka again, he noticed that she had somehow been silenced and was quietly sitting in her chair, looking at Soul with wide eyes and a light blush crawling across her cheeks. He cocked an eyebrow and turned his head, somehow afraid. "Um, are you okay?" Maka fidgeted in her seat for a moment before nodding.

"Why don't you want to look for the next Kishin egg today, huh?" She sounded nervous, which Soul promptly decided to ignore. If she was actually about to hear him out, who was he to deny her?

"Because I have a day out for us planned today. I talked to Nana after you went to bed, and we have it all figured out. First, you two are gonna' go out and do stupid girl stuff; I'll be here while you're doing that. Then-" Soul stopped when he saw the look on Maka's face. "Um?"

"This is just a plot to get me out of here so you can have the house to yourself, isn't it?" Her pink blush was now out of anger. Soul sighed and looked down at the table.

"No, that's not it. After you get back from wherever it is Nana takes you, we'll walk down to the market street by the beach, then to the fair that's going on. We'll grab a bite to eat, go down to the beach for a swim, then Nana will pick us up for one of those sappy romances you like at some theater. Still sound like some evil plot?" He measured Maka's reaction and was pleased with what he saw. She had a far away look in her eyes, as if she was already doing one of the things he'd listed.

"Okay, fine. But when will we look for the next Kishin egg? Our deadline is in four days." She frowned at this thought, saddened that they couldn't spend more time in Tokyo. As often as they traveled, they never actually spent their time having real fun on extracurricular lessons. What constituted as fun on their missions was resting and licking their wounds.

"You act like four days isn't enough," Soul was nonchalant as he raised his arms above his head, stretching, "it's _plenty_ of time, Maka. Besides. How often do we get to relax on these extracurricular lessons anyway? Never. Alright, it's decided! Nana, Tokyo Mew Mew!" In a frenzy, Maka was swept upstairs by her grandmother, who yelled much louder than Maka had, but cheered squealing compliments and orders.

Soul shook his head and went into the living. He plopped onto the couch and clicked the television on, hoping to find some amazing guy movie. Soul suddenly squinted his eyes, a suspcious feeling overcoming him, like someone was watching him. He looked over to his left and saw Grumpy standing in the arch that led from the living room to the study in the back. Grumpy stood there, leaning against his cane, watching Soul with his own squiting eyes. Soul felt an icy fear trickle down his chest and burn the inside of his stomach. Slowly, Grumpy turned around and walked away.

"What the fuck is wrong with this family."

Then again, who was Soul to complain about them? This day out with Maka honestly was a plot. A plot to make her fall for Soul, just as hard as he had fallen for her in the last two months. He smirked at his devious genius.

When Nana was finished having her way with her granddaughter, Maka gave the mirror one glimpse and screamed bloody murder. It was horrible. There was no other way to describe it besides _absolutely horrible_. The pants were black with gray polka dots, held up by black suspenders, which were worn over a busty, pink, breast-flaunting halter top that showed her stomach. Her hair was straightened and left down, except for her bangs, which were pulled back into a "bump style," as Nana put it. What was worse, Nana had put terrifying make up on Maka, something that made her die a little on the inside. A disgusting amount of sparkling pink eye shadow covered the skin around her eyes, and an unnecessary amount of lip stick and face powder covered her face. She looked like the Barbie doll of a three year old prospective abstract artist.

"Um, N-Nana, I appreciate the help, but... I think I'm gonna' take another shower, and then do my own thing..." Maka stood stock still as she watched Nana's reaction. She hoped she hadn't hurt her feelings too badly. Suddenly, Nana began to laugh and nod her head.

"Yes, of course, Maka. I'm glad you said something, because I was about to say, how the hell could you let me do this to you?" She laughed even harder and left the door open behind her. Maka's eyes narrowed in irritable confusion. Everything that just happened in the last hour meant nothing. An hour -time, profitable time- had been wasted. Somehow, she found it too easy to blame Soul for this. In a frustrated manner, Maka shut the bathroom door and showered, viciously rubbing the gore from her face.

Afterwards, she dumped everything from her black suit case onto the bed and scoured the deep reaches of her clothes for a suitable outfit. Eventually, she reluctantly settled on something that made her feel self-conscious in its own way. However, at the same time, she felt lovely.

She pulled the green high-waist miniskirt up her legs; the first couple of inches of the skirt were smooth fabric, but that quickly turned into folds. A long-sleeved pink graphic-T fit loosely in place over her torse. She attached the same pair of suspenders Nana had used onto the skirt and pulled them over her shoulders. Looking in the mirror, she was satisfied with her nearly complete outfit. She tugged on black thigh-high socks and a pair of sneakers, then went to the bathroom and put her hair in pig tails, held up with pink ribbons. Soul sat in the living room watching a masculine, action-packed guy comedy. He lazily fed himself caramel covered popcorn, laughed when he should laugh, and shouted when he should shout. He ignored the steps approaching behind him, hoping it wouldn't be anything too important.

"Soul. How do I look?" Maka. Maka and her girl questions. He winced when she spoke up, because he knew there wasn't a correct answer to her question. There never, ever was. He paused his movie, then closed his eyes, and slowly turned around to face Maka. With much resistance, Soul opened his eyes. And his mouth dropped. Yet again, he found his pants fit much too tightly for his liking. They really should have made some sort of boner-proof pants. Or something. Soul thought the person who created that would be a millionaire whom everyone on the damn planet would love.

"Y-You look great, Maka," Soul said in astonishment. Her long and slender legs were beautiful and went on for miles. He couldn't help himself. His face burned and stung from how badly he wanted her; his entire body was alive and hyperaware. He itched to touch her porcelain legs, though he knew from experience that they were solid muscle that could easily kill an average man. Thinking about her and everything he could do to her magnified his feelings, which was something that did _not_ need to happen in that moment in time. He probably made her embarrassed by staring at her like that, like he was judging her. He wasn't. He was admiring her, and if only she could know that. If only he could swoop her into his arms and carry her up to that bedroom, lay her on that bed, and-

"Soul, stop staring. You're making me self-conscious." Maka blushed and swiveled side to side for a moment, which caused her skirt to flare out. She gave Soul a gentle smile and waved at him. "I gotta' go now. Bye." She wiggled her fingers and turned around, walking away. He hated to see her go, but loved to watch her leave. After all, Maka Albarn had such a fine ass.

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**A/N: Loving shout out to **_**littleninjaofawesome**_** for following LIP's tumblr.**

**To GG: There was a push.**


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